


all our younger years

by reveries_passions



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Blink and you'll miss it, Crying, Fetus Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, Illegal Activities, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Summer, but its all good, but kinda, but like theres not much, but not really, cliche summer things, crying in the rain, football stadiums, kissing under the stars, minor side Ziam, oh yeah, there is a lot of crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 16:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12280122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveries_passions/pseuds/reveries_passions
Summary: in which harry and louis are inseparable trouble makers who think they have everything figured out, but as it turns out, they don’t, and they have one summer left together until louis goes to university.





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [futureisforgiven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureisforgiven/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the HL Pic Exchange 2017!
> 
> based on this prompt:
> 
> "Is this going to get us in trouble?"  
> "Depends what you mean by trouble."  
> "Remember the water balloon incident of 2010?"  
> "It won't be as bad as that."  
> "That's still not comforting Lou."  
> "C'mon, Harry. It's the summer, cut loose a bit, have some fun."  
> "Your definition of fun usually includes something illegal."  
> "Exactly!" 
> 
>  
> 
> or louis encourages harry to do stupid shit cause he's the adventurous one and harry goes along with it because he's madly in love with his best friend.
> 
> title from ‘heaven’ by bryan adams.

  


Once upon a time, it was the beginning of the end.  
  
It was the second day of Harry Styles' summer vacation when his life seemingly came to an abrupt halt. Everything was perfect. Had been, at least. But now, he wouldn't allow himself to think of what would happen when school started again. Didn't matter. Didn't have anything to do with him. What was school anyway? Trapped for hours in a sweaty classroom, victim to the same daily routine, the same lessons, the same nasty kids. What a way to live. Subject to society's expectations of a regular seventeen year old's education; maths and science and biology and chemistry and reading and writing and essays and homework.

Harry always asked himself the same question, even when he'd given up on establishing a definitive answer long ago. His sleepless nights were abundant, especially because the house was completely free of air conditioning, so he figured he might as well conduct some kind of productive activity while lying uselessly on a creaky bed in his boxers, busying himself with trying to discover the answer to the question: what did it mean to be happy?  
  
Took him a while before he even considered letting it go.  
  
Because the truth was, if he could discover the long sought answer, maybe he could just make it happen for himself. He wasn't going to live on this earth for eighty years and then, on his deathbed, be asking himself 'was I truly happy?’ _. If only._ That was really the phrase that would bounce around his brain and taunt him from behind his eyelids when he tried desperately to push himself into sleep. If only he knew how to be happy, if only he had some way to understand what it meant to be searching for _something_ without knowing what he was even looking for. What the _something_ was.  
  
And well. Harry was a bit existential. He had never been the rebellious one.  
  
That was Louis.  
  
See, for Louis, happiness came easily. He didn't have to try. Happiness was as easy for Louis as compiling long, unnecessary mental lists was for Harry. He was just so effortlessly cheerful at every second of every day; he didn't seem to worry about being conscious of other people's opinions, everything just came so naturally to him. The world was his stage, his life was an unending frenzy of excitement and laughter. Harry really wasn't quite sure how they had become friends.  
  
Well, actually, he was. He just wasn't quite sure why Louis had kept him around after all this time.  
  
Harry was incredibly lucky to be best friends with someone who was so loved by everyone. There wasn't a single soul on the face of the earth who could have disliked his Lou. He was proud of that. He was proud to call Louis his friend.  
  
He wished, maybe, secretly, they could've been more.  
  
Summer, he figured, was a better time than ever to begin embracing his newfound sexuality. Well, he hadn't told anyone, but coming to terms with it himself was a good thing, right? Anyway, he wasn't going to tell anyone until he knew for certain. Because there was still a chance he could be straight. He was probably just waiting to meet the right girl. Definitely. He wasn't gay. (Harry had now recently entered the denial stage of discovery).  
  
And, anyway. He was, in all likelihood, just going through a phase. Because when Louis had come out, he had made it look so easy. He was so openly and happily gay that everybody kind of knew yet nobody really mentioned it. Apparently he'd known since he was a little kid; at least, that's what he told Harry. And his coming out wasn't the extravagant ordeal that everyone had expected it to be. It was just a simple 'I'm gay' on a Thursday afternoon when he was fifteen, and that was that. Few of the kids at school even dared to make fun of him, and those who did were completely ignored.  
  
So the truth was, he couldn't really take after Louis in terms of being gay. He just didn't have the courage.  
  
And it wasn't like Harry was attracted to Louis or anything. No. Definitely not. Absolutely not. Louis was his friend. Louis was his _best_ friend. Louis, who was currently chewing loudly through the speaker in Harry's phone as he simultaneously blabbered on and on about some book he'd read about the lives of fish.  
  
"...you know they remember things, right? Like when people say you have the memory of a goldfish that's fucking offensive to goldfish, they've just been stereotyped. And like, why single out a single species? That's fucking cruel. You don't say slugs have bad memories, or flowers have bad memories. And they do. You just say goldfish and I think that's really species-ist. Don't you think, Harry?"  
  
It was eleven in the morning, and Harry bit into a muffin.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"See? It makes no sense, even you get it." There was a pause on the other end of the phone, a faint ruffling, some distant conversation. Harry collapsed on the couch and reached for the television remote, content with remaining there all day. "Mum says I've got to go. Can I come over tonight?"  
  
"Sure. We're having a pot roast."  
  
"Sick, okay, see you later."  
  
He wasn't quite sure why Louis still bothered to ask about coming over. When Harry wasn’t at his own house, he was at school, and when he wasn’t at school, he was at Louis’ house. A second home kind of thing. It wasn't like his mum minded; she was apparently thrilled to have another son to look after, another mouth to feed, another person to coo after and cluck over, despite all of the extra work. Not to mention that both Harry and Louis’ mums were working alone, both single mothers for several years now. Jay a nurse, Anne an editor. There was probably a time, a long while ago, when they worried about how their homes appeared to other people, about if they presented themselves as collected and ladylike. But with Louis at his house, everyone simply became at ease; his sister more cheerful and teasing and his mother busier yet jollier. It was Louis’ gift. Harry envied it just a little bit.  
  
Harry didn’t think he would ever get used to all of the energy at Louis’ house. Like, he always had a marvelous time. He always enjoyed every second of the chaos that his friend was accustomed to, but with it always so loud and full of giddy and awake little girls and annoyed and disaffected teen girls, it was hard to not always be slightly astounded by the family’s normal. His normal was always fairly quiet; he did his homework alone, he made regular conversation with his family but it wasn't the kind of _alive_ , _sparkling_ energy Louis’ normal always was. Three kids at the table at the same time, all screaming for mum and Louis to help them with maths; mum in the kitchen screaming back instructions, Louis dusting eyeshadow on his youngest sister’s face. _Chaos_. He loved it.

He was undeniably happy with Louis.

And in six weeks time, it was going to be over.

  


~

  


It was seven o’clock when Louis arrived.

The sun was beginning to set in the beautiful way it always did during the summer; the rays were orange and gold and the windows were open, letting in a deliciously warm-cool breeze that made Harry’s room feel soft and shiny. There were shadows on the rug from a gap within the curtains. The smell of leeks and spices wafted throughout the house. Harry knew exactly when the other boy opened the door. There was the rattling of wind chimes from where they were hanging above the front step, a stomping from where he was probably skipping across the landing, followed by a faint clash and a string of obscenities. He’d most likely knocked over a lamp or something. He did the exact same thing practically every other day.

“H, be a love and come down here!” he called up sweetly. Harry yanked on a shirt and trekked down the stairs, met predictably with the sight of Louis standing sheepishly with his arms near his side, grinning, a bit embarrassed, a bit flustered, and a lot beautiful, with a mess of loose change scattered at his feet.

Harry couldn't help his smile.

“What even was that?” he said.

“Not my fault that you keep a tray with coins on it,” Louis replied innocently, and it might’ve sounded hostile if it weren’t for the bright and mischievous sparkle that glimmered in his blue eyes.

“It's summer,” Harry said as he knelt down to collect the coins. “We should, like, meet at the park or something. Have a picnic. You know. Do what normal people do.”

Louis scoffed, evidently not bothered by the mess or the fact his friend was cleaning up while he was casually leaning against the wall. “Nobody actually does that. And the park doesn't have pot roast.”

“I don't even want pot roast,” Harry continued, ignoring him. “It's much too hot for pot roast. Let's just have ice cream for dinner.”

“I would like that but I'd also like a roast. Can we go upstairs please?”

“Too hot upstairs,” Harry insisted.

“I need to tell you something,” Louis said.

There was a moment’s pause, where Harry had to deconstruct his body language and suddenly tense and nervous demeanor. His stance was unnatural and his hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt. No, Louis wasn't fucking around, not like the many times he'd said ‘I have a secret’ and proceeded to yell in Harry’s ear, not like the other times he'd pointed at something and screamed ‘made you look’ before slapping him playfully around the back of the head. Louis was being dead serious and that was probably the most terrifying thing of all.

“Upstairs.” Harry repeated.

“Upstairs.” Louis nodded stiffly, leading the way towards the stairs.

Somehow, the deliciously warm-cool breeze had disappeared and the room was left a little dry, a little chilly, a little duller, and he hadn’t even heard the news Louis had to tell him. Why exactly was he so nervous? It couldn’t have been the mere concept of ‘news’ that scared him; it was definitely Louis’ own nerves.

They sat on the bed, close enough that their sides were touching. Harry’s toes tickled the rug. Louis’ toes barely reached the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked after both of them had settled down.

Louis released out a dramatic sigh, like himself, enough so that Harry could breathe a bit more.

“You’re going to hate me,” he admitted.

“I’d never hate you.” Harry wanted to reach out, grab the other boy’s hand. In, like, a friendly way. Because they were friends. _Just_ friends.

“You will. After this.”

A nervous laugh found its way out of Harry’s mouth. The room turned several degrees colder.

“You haven’t killed anyone, have you? Because there is no way I am helping you to hide the body. That’s your thing.”

Amused, Louis raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. “My thing?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What is your thing, then? If it’s not doing stupid shit.”

“ _Not_ killing people, I have manners. My thing is being awesome and and sneaky and breaking into places without getting caught.”

Harry laughed again, for real this time, because it was, really. That was Louis’ thing. He deflated slightly when he realized he didn’t really have a thing, unless you could consider being pretentious and boring a ‘thing’.

“Okay, tell me then. What is all of this about? Because I would really like to be eating ice cream and listening to music instead of just sitting here.”

The corner of Louis’ mouth twitched up, an adorably sweet gesture that he often did without even noticing.

“Yeah. Okay. You’ll hate me though.”

“Never.”

It was only a sigh and a brief inhale before the entire world came crashing down.

“H, I’m leaving.”

  


~

  


The truth was, _where_ might have been the absolute stupidest thing to say in response to the news of his best friend moving away, but he’d never really had a filter, which was something that made the two of them pretty similar. And he wasn’t really speechless because it hadn’t really _hit_ him yet; a life without Louis? What on earth was that? He was so used to having the boy around with him at all times that the idea of living without him seemed to be some weird, alien concept. Nothing actually fathomable in his own existence. Nothing that he ever _considered._

“Where?” he blurted out.

_H, I’m leaving._

_Leaving._

_I’m leaving._

_Leaving._

Leaving was so _vague._ What was he supposed to make of that?

“I, um, I got into a university. Manchester. Manchester U. They’re...they’re giving me a partial scholarship. Mum wants me to go.”

Harry was sitting safely on dry land, and yet he felt as if he was drowning in a million swimming pools; suffocated under twelve feet of water, silence, cold and blue. That was it. _This_ was it. He’d always heard about the friends that his parents had lost connections with after secondary. Always trusted he’d make an extra effort to keep them. Louis was leaving. Louis was leaving. Louis was...he was going to be gone.

“You’re...leaving.”

“I’ll be away during the year. Just the year. I’ll come back for holidays, Christmas and Easter, I’ll come back.” Louis hung his head, and he looked so fucking _sad._ It broke Harry’s heart into millions of tiny pieces. Louis was leaving. This wasn’t supposed to have happened.

“But...you’re not gonna be here.”

Louis sniffed and something sunk deep inside of Harry’s chest. _This wasn’t supposed to have happened._

“I’ll come back,” he repeated, as if to reassure himself. “And...I’ll see you in the summer. Every summer. And if you apply, you’ll get in as well and then we can go to uni together. That’d be so fun, right? Just...all you have to do is wait a little bit. A couple month increments. I’ll come back. Really.”

And...Harry knew that. He did. It wasn’t like he was going to be spending years and years away. He could even drive himself down to Manchester for the weekend if he truly wanted. He could take the train. That wasn’t really what bothered him, wasn’t why he was so upset.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The room was freezing now. The sun vanished behind a cloud, forgotten, mourning.

_This wasn't supposed to have happened._

“I...didn’t think I was going to get in.”

Harry also knew, immediately, that this wasn’t the truth.

“Of course you would have gotten in,” Harry gaped. “You could get into literally any university for football...you’re amazing at maths, you’re smart, really smart. You didn’t tell me, we’re supposed to be _best friends_ , Lou. We’re...we’re supposed to tell each other everything.”

“I know.” Louis didn’t meet his eyes. He stared down at his feet, hair fallen in front of his eyes, profile dark against the light illuminating the room. He could’ve been a painting.

There was a moment of complete and total silence. Harry looked at Louis, Louis couldn’t look back or his heart would shatter, he was sure. It wasn’t over. _This_ wasn’t over. This could go on forever. It would just be...temporarily on hold.

“Um,” Louis said. “I thought, before I…” his throat got stuck on the words, “...before I _head off_ …well. I have a proposal to make.”

Harry was still extremely deflated and disappointed by the news; at the moment, a Louis-proposal was the last thing that he wanted. He was already imagining the state he would be in once his best friend had left, and now, said best friend was obviously trying to pull together some form of dramatic exit. Then, he’d disappear or something. They’d never speak to each other again. Harry shuddered. It was already bad enough being at school without Louis beside him at all times.

“I’m not sure if that’s such a great idea,” he said reluctantly. “Um…” He was tempted, in all honesty, to send Louis home and ponder over what he’d been told, but Louis had that _look_ back in his eyes; the one that meant something was brewing in his mind, some plan, some crazy adventure, some new prank. To others, Louis might have been a bit mysterious, but to Harry, he was an open book. And Harry could never resist the _look_.

“What is it?” he finally gave in, and the other boy leapt to his feet, already smiling despite the walls feeling as if they were about to cave in.

Louis extracted a folded and crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket, a sweets wrapper coming out along with it and drifting slowly onto the floor. He did that thing where he stuck his tongue out a bit in extreme concentration; the habit that everybody noticed, but nobody noticed at the same time. It was adorable.

“I call it,” Louis said, “‘Louis’ Epic Amazing Summer of Awesomeness Featuring Harry the Awesome Best Mate.’ What d’you think?”

“Very descriptive,” Harry replied flatly.

“I know, right? So, basically it has dates and stuff, and next to the dates, it has what we’re going to do. Erm...you should probably read it for yourself. And tell me what you think. Or don’t because we’re doing it anyway.”

He held out the piece of paper, grinning crookedly.

On it, read, in scribbled messy-neat handwriting:

 

‘ **_Louis’ Epic Amazing Summer of Awesomeness Featuring Harry the Awesome Best Mate (or LEASAFHABM) by Louis the Tommo Tomlinson :)_ **

**_The only rules to this awesome adventure is that we can’t get caught, and that’s the rules, so don’t get caught._ **

**_Week of July 18: secondary school, 6pm. Bring a swimsuit._ **

**_Week of July 25: the dog pound a few miles south. You know where I’m talking about._ **

**_Week of August 1: Nick’s house. Yep, that Nick. Don’t bring anything, I’ve got it covered._ **

**_Week of August 8: Rovers stadium._ **

**_Week of August 15: surprise :P_ **

 

“What the bloody fuck,” he said almost instantly, glancing up to where Louis was still standing with the exact same grin plastered across his face.

“What do you think?” Louis exclaimed, eyes lighting up in that _way_ they just did that was, again, impossible to resist. Much like every other facial expression he made. He was so _endearing. Effortlessly_ so _._

“I…” Harry was, for a moment, speechless. Because not only were these...these _proposals_ as vague as possible, but they also sounded highly illegal. Especially the one at the _dog pound,_ which Harry wasn’t aware actually existed, but of course Louis did because Louis knew absolutely everything and everyone.

“These things sound really illegal, Louis.”

Louis laughed, a kind of disaffected, unfazed, and unbothered sound that raised goosebumps across Harry’s arms.

“What have we done every single summer, H?” he asked, raising an eyebrow all _cutely_.

In some weird way, Harry felt like he was being reprimanded; he ducked his head as if he were a young child and mumbled under his breath, “pranks and illegal stuff."

“And have I, Louis the Tommo Tomlinson, ever gotten us caught?”

Harry ducked his head a little further.

“No.”

Louis smiled again, big and excited and _home._ Harry’s heart broke a little more.

“So, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t see anything wrong with this idea.”

“Of course you don’t,” Harry said, amused and sad and anxious and apprehensive and excited and disappointed. “You came up with it.”

Louis smiled sheepishly.

“So I know you’re upset with me,” he said, serious now, the traces of his happiness still lingering on his face, “but I’ll make it up to you. Really. I will. It’s going to be the best summer of our lives. We’re going to have so much fun. I promise.” Harry felt something in his eye that most definitely was not a tear, what the fuck. “And when it’s over, you’re going to be absolutely bloody sick of me.” The corner of his mouth perked upwards in a little, sad smile.

“Never,” Harry declared softly. He was perched on the bed, paper hanging loosely in his grasp, while Louis remained standing. “I’d never be sick of you.”

Louis sat down beside him. “You will be,” he answered grimly. “One day.”

“Never,” Harry repeated.

“Well.” Louis turned to face him, and several things happened all at once; the sun came out, Louis displayed all of his teeth in one huge grin, a ray of heat pierced him in the eye, and Harry smiled too, too big and not big enough all at once.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me for a very long time.”


	2. 5 weeks until the end

There was a bird perched outside Harry’s window when he woke up.

It was definitely bright enough to be before noon, but still early enough so that there weren’t any regular sounds of afternoon play; no children shrieking, no dogs barking. Silence. A pit gnawing at the bottom of his stomach.

There was about half a minute of relaxation until his brain suddenly kicked in and he remembered what had happened the night before.

It was Monday. Monday would normally mean school. Monday, in the summer, was supposed to hold a sense of freedom but it didn’t. Monday, now, meant one day closer to Louis leaving.

Was he being dramatic? He hoped not. He knew Louis wasn’t going to be gone forever. He wouldn't be gone for years and years, he'd said it himself. But he knew that he wouldn't be seeing Louis every day like he used to. Wouldn't get to spend every afternoon with him. Wouldn't get to spend every meal with him. Wouldn't get to do absolutely everything together. This was the end of an era, but it couldn’t be the end of their friendship. Harry was one hundred percent certain of that.

So Harry picked up his phone, tapped the first contact in his recents, and upon hearing the familiar girlish chatter on the other end, immediately said, “I’ll do it.”

“Huh?” Louis said, before yelling a distant _shut up_ into the background and returning the phone to his ear. “Say that again, love.”

“I’ll…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll participate in your stupid plan thing.”

“Louis’ Epic Amazing Summer of Awesomeness?” he exclaimed cheerfully.

Harry sighed a little too exaggeratedly. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll do the Epic Awesome Summer...thing,  just could you come over? Or could I come over there?”

“The girls are cooking breakfast this morning so that might change your judgment a little bit.”

“Right. Okay. Come over here?”  

“Yep, gimme ten.”

The line went dead, and Harry buried his face in his hands.

It was a lot. A lot to process. Perhaps the most painful part of the whole thing was that Louis was so _okay_ with it, at least to him. He was ready to move away. He thought he would be fine without Harry. That broke his heart, probably more than he had first realized and definitely more than he would ever admit, because he would never be fine without Louis.

He stayed in bed for five more minutes before finally dragging himself beyond the covers, across the cold floor and into the bathroom. He looked proper miserable. His hair was stuck to one side of his head and sticking straight up. There were drool marks lining his left cheek, sleep making his eyelashes cling together. He was, frankly, a right mess. And it was sweltering hot inside and out, just to make everything that much worse.

He collided with his mother in the hallway. She looked more composed than he did but she also had that kind look in her eyes; the one of sympathy, the one that meant she already knew. Of course she did. Their mums probably spoke with each other equally as much as Louis and Harry spoke with each other. Harry just wanted to burst into tears, but he _didn’t_ , he _wouldn’t._ Louis wasn’t fucking crying. Louis never cried.

“You know,” Harry stated, miserably, unhappily, and utterly uselessly.

“Of course I know,” she replied, confirming his earlier suspicions.

“I don’t want him to go.” He felt like a whining child.

“I know,” she said, all knowing and motherly.

That, to be honest, was really all he wanted and needed her to say.

 

~

 

“What do you mean a swimsuit?”

Louis huffed, rolling onto his back and combing a hand through his hair. “Trunks. Pants. Swimsuit. Bikini. Underpants. Whatever, doesn’t matter as long as you don’t care about it getting wet. And potentially ruined.”

Harry closed the drawer, collapsing on the rug in a heap of frustration.

“Why can’t you just _tell_ me what we’re doing instead of being all mysterious about it?”

“Because it’s not fun unless it’s a surprise.”

Harry sat up, only because he could hear the smile laced in the other boy’s voice.

“Surprise,” he scoffed. “For you, surprise means we’ll both end up in handcuffs by the end of it.”

“We’ve only gotten in trouble _once._ ”

“Yeah, one too many times.”

Harry knew he was being purposefully difficult, but that was really only because Louis was being difficult. And really, he should have been used to it. But _really_ , he would never be used to it because his normal was conforming and quiet and reserved while Louis’ normal was loud and adventurous and most certainly _illegal._

The one time they got into serious trouble was during summer ‘09. Harry was fifteen, Louis was approaching seventeen, and they’d somehow found themselves in possession of four baby ducks after a spontaneous trip to the pond, four baby ducks who’d somehow lost their parents and well, they weren’t just supposed to _leave_ them, were they? So they wrapped ‘em up and took them home and they were quite successful in keeping them hidden inside of Harry’s bathtub for approximately two days until Gemma found them while she was visiting from uni. She screamed loud enough that the entire town was probably alerted and well, it wasn’t _their_ fault that the neighbors were so alarmed that they dialed 999. It was technically Gemma’s fault for screaming bloody murder when there were only baby ducks. But when reinforcements arrived, they certainly didn’t see it that way and the two boys were the first to be reprimanded for not contacting the animal rescue immediately. So they were given a fine. A small one. And they’d never, _ever_ been allowed to forget it.

“Hey, you weren’t the only one of us who had to get a job,” Louis argued.

“Yeah, and you weren’t the only one who had to get a job either.”

At some point, Louis had gotten up and begun fishing through his friend’s dresser searching for... _whatever_ he was searching for. Maybe Harry could’ve contributed if it weren’t for the fact he was completely oblivious to what the hell was going on. It was well into the night, they’d eaten and they were full and it was hot and Louis had insisted that they were supposed to leave at half til midnight but that was really bloody late and yes, it was _really hot_ outside despite the sun having gone down a couple of hours ago.

All he knew was they were supposed to be going to the school. The school that was currently closed. That was definitely enough information to confirm Harry’s suspicions as to what they would be getting up to during the night.

 

~

 

Apparently, when Louis had insisted beforehand he had the whole thing covered, ‘covered’ had in fact meant a backpack stuffed with snacks and ‘tools’ and a giant blue tarp which he refused to explain the use for.

Despite it being completely dark out, it was still sweltering. He had a slight view of the stars from where they were shuffling along, close to the school’s main set of doors. There wouldn’t be anyone out at this time, but Louis seemed entirely committed to being as sneaky as possible. Probably added to the whole effect of it all. Harry felt quite rebellious, in all honesty. And he wasn’t even the one leading this entire thing.

He figured Louis had thought of absolutely everything. He’d put enough thought into organizing the location and logistics (supposedly) of each event. The locked door to the main hallway wouldn’t be a big deal, would it?

He’d overestimated his friend’s planning skills.

“You’re an idiot,” he announced as he watched Louis weakly attempt to push a window open with his bare hands. Harry let out a huff of annoyance as the frame refused to budge. This was useless. Absolutely useless. Why were they here again? Why had he agreed to do this? He wasn’t a _bad_ kid. He’d just been corrupted a little bit. But breaking into his school in the middle of the night (which Louis, being nineteen, didn’t actually attend anymore) when they were _definitely_ not allowed to be there was...well, it was crossing the line just a little bit.

Louis, coincidentally, spoke up exactly then, saying, “It’s not like we’ve never done the whole ‘breaking and entering’ thing.”

Well. Maybe they had. But it was late, Harry was tired and right about now, he really wanted some of the crisps in Louis’ bag but his hand was smacked away the moment he even made to reach for them. Louis’d been working on the window for about three minutes and no visible progress had been made. They really should just give up.

He thought that was about to happen when his friend withdrew from the wall and released a lengthy sigh. However, he didn’t anticipate a cheerful smile.

“Well, guess we’d better find another way!”

Harry groaned. Like legitimately, seriously groaned, and Louis gave him a peculiar look.

“Stop complaining,” he said after a moment. “It’ll be fun, I promised you that, didn’t I?”

“Ugh,” Harry said, and kicked off the wall and followed the other boy as he began the trek to the other side; for what, he wasn’t sure. “For the record, you never actually promised me anything.”

“Just think about it, H,” Louis called over his shoulder. “We’ll be able to steal from all the vending machines we want.”

That, admittedly, made him a little more at ease with this whole ordeal.

The only other potential entrances were the other exits and a handful of windows. All of which would most certainly be locked, so there was really no reason for him to be trying anymore. There was only one other way that might actually get them inside, but it would most definitely be impossible.

It seemed that on this particular night, Louis was doing a lot of thought channelling, because as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking, he stepped towards to the nearest window, latched his fingers onto the top of the frame, and pulled himself up.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Harry hissed, watching as the boy’s legs pushed him up even higher, sneakers catching on the bricks and providing him with enough leverage so that his left forearm could support him…

He was on the _roof._ He’d just scaled the height of the one-story building and was now sitting on atop it as if the action meant absolutely nothing.

“I’m going to walk home if you don’t get down from there right this _fucking_ second,” Harry said firmly, pointing to the ground beneath his feet as if it would illustrate his point.

“Nah.” Louis waved his hand nonchalantly. “Just, you know…” He gestured vaguely. “Climb up.”

Harry gaped, shocked by the fact that this was _actually happening._

“I’m not going to _climb the school you idiot_ ,” he burst out.

“Do you want to eat these bloody crisps or not?” Louis said. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just camp out here, all by myself, nobody to talk to, nobody to share an entire vending machine with, me and my chips, all alone…” He trailed off, inspecting his nail and then staring into the distance and sighing wistfully.

Well. How was he supposed to resist _that_?

He was wearing old converse that probably weren’t the appropriate shoes for this situation; he needed spikes, or those rock climbing slipper things. But Louis had done it with ease, so he’d try.

“I really hate you,” he grumbled, balancing one foot on the edge of the window frame and carefully pushing himself up.

It took some effort, but after minute (give or take), he was up, sitting right beside Louis who was perched delicately on his heels and was now looking at him, an amused smirk dancing across his face.

“I think,” Harry panted even though the climb hadn’t consumed _that much_ of his energy, “that as payback, I deserve first pick of snacks.”

“Absolutely.” Louis smiled brightly, smacking his lips in a sort of kissy way that Harry might have laughed at if it hadn’t been so _utterly_ _endearing._ And _cute_ , fucking hell.

“What now?” Harry asked, seemingly having forgotten his previous dismay at this _adventure_ and accepting the fact that he was on the roof now, they both were, and there was _no way_ he would  be jumping off at this point. He wasn’t scared of heights or anything; he just didn’t want to be the one hobbling home on a twisted ankle.

“Now, my dear, we find a goddamned vent to climb in through.”

He wasn’t worried about the actual drop from the ceiling to the floor, not in the slightest, but he was slightly concerned about his ability to fit into the aforementioned vent. He knew it wouldn’t be a problem for Louis. He was skinny, dainty, and perfectly capable of fitting into a tiny space, but Harry was a bit more lanky and soft around the hips so yes. Yes, that would most certainly be an issue.

Perhaps, it was an issue that Louis hadn’t thought through either because once they’d found the grate and easily pulled the top off, he had slipped through the opening they had uncovered and landed on the floor softly, but Harry, now alone on the roof, was unsure of how to actually get his legs inside.

“Just slide in and let go,” Louis called from below. Harry couldn’t determine exactly where he was; it must’ve been pitch black down there, at least from the looks of it. He was about 99 percent sure the boy hadn’t brought a torch.

“My legs aren’t going to _fit_ , Louis,” he said, experimentally sitting down and letting his feet dangle beneath him.

“Well they just did, didn’t they?” the boy replied. “Come on, just get in here already.”

With another sigh of irritation, he, with some struggle, managed to get half his body in.

“I won’t fit!” he huffed, and Louis snorted, making note of the obvious innuendo; Harry would’ve flipped him off except his shoulders were currently stuck and he was basically hanging by his neck at this point.

“Not to pull your leg, mate, but--” Harry felt two hands firmly grab his ankles and yes, _pull_ , probably a lot harder than intended but it worked, and he went tumbling down and landed in a heap on top of his friend.

A series of things occurred simultaneously at this point; one, the yelp Louis let out as Harry’s entire body weight laid directly on top of him, two, the grunt Harry made when he felt himself collide into the unforgiving surface of the floor, three, the squeak the floor produced when it rubbed against Harry’s sneakers, four, the feeling of Louis’ bony hip pressing into the small of Harry’s back. It was only a moment before Louis started laughing, and probably about half a second later, Harry joined in. So there they were, just lying there, cackling, practically _crying_ with laughter, not because it hadn’t hurt (it had), but because this entire situation was so insanely ridiculous that they couldn’t help it. Harry wasn’t quite so mad anymore. He couldn’t stay mad at Louis anyway–who could?

“I really...fucking...hate you,” Harry grumbled between fits of laughter, trying to catch his breath. “I’m not gonna spend...the entire bloody summer breaking into places with you, oh god.”

Louis chuckled. “Ha. Yeah, you are.” Mildly struggling, he sat up, face flushed pink and hair wild and smile wide. “You can’t resist me.”

No. No, of course he couldn’t. Check that off of the list of things that Louis would always be responsible for.

“When are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” Harry asked, trailing after his friend who was already skipping down the corridor, the only sign of their presence a hole in the ceiling leaking moonlight onto the dusty tiled floor.

“Never,” Louis said frankly, turning into the boys’ bathrooms.

“Never,” Harry repeated slowly.

“Nope. You're gonna figure it out for yourself!”

He was slowly becoming more and more suspicious; the way Louis wickedly grinned over his shoulder and hopped a bit, the way he slipped the backpack off his back and pulled out _yes_ , another blue tarp, and _another_ blue tarp, the way he–

“What the fuck are you doing?” Harry shrieked as Louis reached over and pulled the soap dispenser right off the wall.

The boy merely hummed in acknowledgment and removed the bag of soap, skipping back into the hallway with all three tarps (jesus) and proceeding to spread them down the entirety of the corridor.

“H, be a love and fetch me the hose from my Mary Poppins bag please?”

“What the fuck,” Harry said blankly.

“Please? Wait, actually I need to do it.”

He got up and strode off to where he'd discarded his backpack; much to the utter shock and misery of Harry Styles he pulled out a goddamn garden hose, one that appeared almost identical to the one at his own house.

“Did you…”

“Yes, babe, I might have borrowed my mum’s hose for the night but she never uses it anyway so I figured it was totally fine.”

“Louis, that's _stealing_.”

“No it's not,” Louis scoffed. “It's not stealing if I _own_ it.”

“ _It's not yours_!” Harry flailed his arms desperately.

“Fine, fine, whatever!” Louis replied from inside the restroom. There was a bit of a racket; some banging that sounded like metal hitting the floor, a harsh spray of water, a string of curses, and finally a whoop of victory.

The boy dashed back out, handing the end of the hose to Harry and leaving him there wordlessly. He grabbed his bag of soap and after biting at the corner, squeezed it hard enough so that the entire thing exploded over not only the tarp, but also their clothes and faces.

Harry was left standing there in shock once again; it took a moment, but suddenly Louis was cheering and the hose was on. Somewhat. Sort of. If ‘on’ meant Louis had definitely broken a pipe in the sink in order to get it to work, then yes, it was on. And now it was all over his pants, and in that second, he realized what Louis had planned.

“You've created a slip ‘n slide, you idiot,” Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose, not even able to muster up some form of annoyance, only exasperation.

“I know!” Louis replied brightly, darting back out and immediately stripping his shirt off, even before Harry could realize what was happening.

Louis was already wearing swim trunks; yellow ones that were far too short to be considered innocent, and he had achieved a perfect tan over the course of the entire summer which meant both his torso and legs were deliciously sunkissed and golden. Harry stood there feeling a bit lanky and awkward and bumbling, still fully dressed, and didn't actually begin to move until his friend took a running start from one end of the corridor and nearly leapt on top of the tarp.

He slid on his stomach. Several feet. Let out a cheer of excitement and happiness, carefree smile seemingly radiating throughout the entire building. He was _infectious._

“What are you waiting for then?” Louis cried, laughing as he came to a slow halt.

 _Infectious_.

In a few seconds, Harry was down to his boxers and yelling in a kind of terrified-happy screech as he and Louis went, over and over, apparently never getting any closer to tiring. They could go well into the night–they _had_ gone well into the night, and they didn’t know the time, but it must’ve been well into the morning when, without realizing, they fell asleep, each lying in a small pool of soap and water, each relishing in the cool of the floor and the heat of the air, and each with identical smiles on their faces.


	3. 4 weeks until the end

“Why do you have a book about Buddhism?” 

Louis’ room was, decidedly, an absolute pigsty. 

It was...usually like this. Most of the time.  _ All  _ of the time. But it wasn’t the kind of messy that was clothes flung to the floor, trash littering the rug, drawers hanging open; it was a sort of  _ organized chaos _ ? His clothes were in a makeshift pile next to his bed, the trash was all on his nightstand, his three pairs of shoes (newer sneakers, older sneakers, and spikes) were stacked on top of each other next to his wardrobe which was on the verge of collapse due to the sheer amount of shit that he’d stuffed into it. His bed was, of course, unmade. Harry wasn't really sure what he'd expected; he hadn't been to Louis’ house in a while (a while being three days). 

Louis shrugged. “Not sure. Just ended up in here.” 

And that was how things usually occurred in this household. 

There was always a faint thrumming in Louis’ house. The girls distantly chattering, the washing machine rattling, the tap running, the air conditioning humming. It would've been annoying if it wasn't so oddly comforting. 

He refused to let himself ponder what everything would be like when it was empty.

He also refused to acknowledge the obvious tension, instead awkwardly bringing up the lack of sun in today’s weather. 

“It would be nice if it rained though,” Louis replied, flopping down on his bed and ignoring the pained and weathered  _ creak  _ it emitted out. It wasn’t quite as old as it seemed; it was just exhausted from the same two boys doing the exact same jumping action on it all the time for the past several years. 

“Why?” Harry mimicked him, and they were lying comfortably side by side staring at the ceiling. 

“Nice change.” 

“Change,” Harry echoed. 

“Yeah. Sick of the damn sun.” 

Instinctively, without even thinking, Harry rested a hand on the other boy’s arm and sat up. Louis yawned. 

“Tell me about Buddhism,” he requested. 

Louis blinked up at him. 

“I told you–”

“You're a shit liar, Lou.” Harry pressed, grinning. “Why were you reading a book on Buddhism?” 

Louis stared at him for a long moment before sighing all too dramatically and slapping a hand over his chest. “You never believe anything I say,” he sighed, feigning hurt and resentment.

“Tell me.” 

“Ugh. I've only read, like, two pages, yeah? But there's the whole ‘one with everything’ thing, oh! And I read about the afterlife. If you can call it an afterlife. You know Nirvana?” 

“The band.” Harry laid back on the bed and smashed at a handful of invisible drums, humming a song off key. He couldn’t remember what it was called but he was certain it was by Nirvana.

“Yeah, but it was a Buddhism thing first,” Louis explained, nodding as if he was the Buddha himself. “Like reincarnation, basically? Instead of going to heaven or hell or whatever–” Harry ignored the fact that Louis had been going to church since he was a toddler and didn't seem to be displaying his years of Sunday school education now, “–you go into your next life. And you keep on living until you've, like, fulfilled...whatever, you only stop once you're a whole person. Truly happy.” 

Harry hummed and ignored the wheels beginning to turn within his brain. 

“Then you go to Nirvana which is, to quote, ‘a blissful state of nothingness’.” 

Harry gave his friend an amused smirk. “Sounds boring.” 

“Well if it's blissful it has to be nice. Like sleeping without realizing it.”

“But then you basically don't exist. That's a trip.” 

“Sounds nice.” 

Harry had to closely examine his face before realizing he was definitely joking. 

“Shut up. Did you just make all that up?” 

“No!” Louis insisted playfully. “Swear on my life, read the book if you wanna know.” 

“You probably stole it.” Harry stood and picked it up anyway, pausing momentarily to examine the detailed painting on the front, the fine script (which he could not understand in the slightest), the gold-lined pages. Yeah. He’d definitely stolen it. 

“Was my mum’s,” Louis drawled, splaying his limbs out on the bed. “Borrowed it.” He yawned again. 

“Borrowed,” Harry snorted. 

He received a pillow thrown at his head. He might've deserved it. 

  
  


~ 

  
  


Dinnertime was loud. 

Whoever had decided boys were supposed to be rowdier than girls had never spent a moment with Louis’ sisters. If it was even humanly possible, they seemed even more excited today. Harry had always wanted younger siblings. With Gemma away, there was almost nothing to do unless Louis was round, which yes, was most of the time, but when he  _ wasn't  _ there, it was so boring that Harry almost wished he was in school. Almost.

“Potatoes, Harry love?” Louis’ mum offered kindly, still in her Winnie the Pooh scrubs, ignoring the already-heaping pile of chicken and broccoli on his plate; it was always a mother’s job to keep the children well fed and both Louis’ and Harry’s excelled at this task. 

He hummed around the food in his mouth and held out his plate. Nobody commented on his poor manners except for Louis, who smacked him round the back of his head and swore through the chicken in his  _ own  _ mouth. 

“Will you be spending the night, Harry?” Louis’ mum asked when they were all settled and eating quietly. 

“Um…” From the side smirk Louis gave him, he already knew what his answer should be. “Yeah, if that’s alright.” He didn’t need to ask. He never needed to ask, but he did anyway. 

They both finished around the same time, Louis asking ‘may we please be excused?’, rushed, as a formality more than anything else, and they got a brief nod coupled with knowing eyes, before shoving one another in the race to get upstairs and pointedly ignoring the ‘ _ clear your places boys, please _ !’.

They hid in Louis’ bedroom for hours. They never seemed to get bored despite the remarkable lack of activity; everyone had learned by now to never interrupt the duo while the door was closed, not because Louis had ever  _ told  _ them to do so, but because they were considerate. Just considerate, definitely not because they didn't want to walk in on the two… _ kissing  _ or something. 

It was around 10pm when Louis eventually dozed off, leaving Harry to entertain himself until he, in turn, fell asleep. They were supposedly heading to the dog pound later that night, the dog pound that they had heard was heavily secured and virtually impossible to break into for the sake of the animals. Dog pounds, they both knew, however, were infamous for their methods of caring for the things, and Louis was apparently using his amazing talents for good. 

“Great way to get girls,” Louis had said, quirking his eyebrows playfully. Harry scoffed.

“Yeah, if you're into that kind of thing.” 

He’d steadfastly ignored the fact that he'd practically outed himself to his friend, because did it really matter?

They left at half-past eleven. 

Of course, they didn't own a car, so they spent near half an hour walking alone, getting lost, spending five minutes arguing over what direction to go in, and walking some more for the next fifteen minutes. This place was secluded, dark, frightening, and probably (definitely) haunted. 

“I don't like this,” Harry hissed when they reached the closed fence. 

“I know, isn't it great?” Louis whispered gleefully, wiggling the handle slightly.

If that wasn’t a perfect representation of their personalities, Harry didn’t know what was. 

The pound was a gloomy brick building that sat atop a lonely hill, dried yellow patches adorning ground in place of grass. A rank smell–manure and fur and something  _ sweaty _ –made them both scrunch their noses in displeasure, ignoring the fact they (Louis) had no idea how to get in and they (Louis) had no idea for the course of action. 

Oh, well. 

“Now what?” Harry sighed. 

Louis, seemingly oblivious to all of their problems, shoved the gate a bit harder. It gave slightly; enough to give the boy all the hope he needed and more, encouraging him to push with all his strength, making the hinges squeal, the rust wail, and a few alarmed barks echo from inside the building as the door came completely off the fence.

“What...the hell are we doing?” Harry grunted, trying to stabilize himself and Louis as the pair tumbled harshly to the ground.

Louis squinted up at him, eyes flicking down quickly to where Harry’s hand was resting softly on his waist, drifting back up to look him in the eye. Harry shook his head minutely to clear the thought from his mind. 

“What does it look like we’re doing?” the boy said, ever so softly, quiet enough that only Harry would be able to hear him even if there was someone else nearby to listen. “We’re breaking into a  _ fucking  _ dog pound.” 

Harry  _ really  _ didn’t want to laugh. He probably strained a muscle or something with how hard he was clenching his stomach in the hopes that Louis wouldn’t actually realize how charmed and entertained he was by this whole ordeal. 

He laughed anyway. Louis laughed right along with him. The only thing that quieted them was the cry of a distant gate as it was abruptly pushed open and the gruff voice that followed: “ _ Who’s out there _ ?” 

With a single glance, they were both rapidly diving for cover behind the handful of puny, dead and straggly bushes that lined the path leading up to the building; their breathing hushed, their limbs crushed against each other, their shared looks of fear. Well.  _ Look _ of fear. Harry had a look of fear. Louis was evidently thrilled with this whole encounter, absolutely hyped and recklessly enthralled. He was dangerous. He was going to get them  _ killed  _ sooner or later. 

They should’ve been dead. Jesus Christ, why were they not dead or at least in prison?

The heavy footsteps against dirt and grass paused momentarily as the owner surveyed their surroundings in hopes of detecting the source of the noise and the broken gate. They collectively held their breath, Louis only for the sheer excitement of hiding, Harry because he felt like he was about to faint. They’d done things like this before, sort of? The whole sneaking thing, hiding from people if the situation presented itself. It felt different now, somehow. Different in the way that meant things had changed. 

They weren’t kids anymore. These weren’t casual pranks. These were illegal stunts. Louis was of age now and he was heading off to uni. 

The steps faded after about a minute, the culprit abandoning the search and instead returning to whatever guards of a (probably illegal and/or uncertified) animal ‘rescue center’ did. Drink beer and smoke or some other shit. 

Louis led them through the entrance after a whispered  _ the coast is clear _ , Mission Impossible style. They were in a fairly small lobby area complete with a desk and a couple of doors, one presumably leading to an office or break room, the other leading to where the dogs were kept. Harry had heard things about this place, knew how poorly the animals were kept. Yeah, they were doing some justice. It would pay off, right? 

There was no one in sight. Louis immediately leapt to his feet and began searching the desk, looking for a key, a paper with a code written on it. He...well, he didn’t notice Harry walk over to the door and push it open. 

So much for security. 

He had about two seconds to collect himself before Louis was smacking him around the back of the head for no apparent reason and they were both in the narrow corridor, lined with cages, each cage containing a skinny and frail puppy, before each in turn, like a wave of  _ destruction _ , erupted in cries and barks and howls. 

“Are we supposed to let them out or…” Harry began, much calmer on the outside than he felt inside. 

“Yes.” Louis’ eyes were wide and he was nodding furiously. He was probably scared now. 

“Yes. Um. Find me...a key. I need a key.” When Harry didn’t move, he exploded in a blur of frantic frustration. “We’re gonna get arrested, oh god,  help me find a key so we can go home and eat, Jesus.”

The key. The key was in the right hand drawer of the desk and it wouldn’t have taken so long to find it if they weren't going absolutely mad with panic at the sound of the same guard hollering from the office. 

“Who’s out there?” 

“Chair!” Louis cried, “Put the damn chair under the door handle.” 

They were gonna die. If they weren’t killed by security guards, Harry was most certainly going to die of a heart attack. 

One by one, the cages were unlocked, the tiny dogs set free, placed gingerly on the grimy tiled floor. They didn’t bother to return for the guard. They were too busy attempting to coax the poor animals out of the terrible building. 

  
  


~

  
  


“This is probably the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.” 

The two had filled Harry’s room with ten malnourished and dehydrated puppies. He had ten puppies in his room. Louis had already named them all. Harry was desperately trying to keep them–both Louis and the dogs–quiet in order to not wake up his mother.

“How are we going to get rid of them?” Harry whisper yelled, ready to yank his own hair out. 

“Well, you can keep them.” At the glare he detected on his friend’s face, he kept talking, throwing out mindless suggestions. “We could sell them, there are probably a lot of people who could get them and we could use the money, right? We could, um. You could keep them until next week’s prank?”

“Nuh uh.” Harry shook his head, giving up and flopping onto his bed in defeat. “Nope. No. Not ever doing this again. This was too much. We could’ve been killed! That guy probably had a gun on him. No way.”

“Hey, real prank this time. No joke.” Louis gave him a serious look. “Just like the good old days, yeah? Remember the water balloons? Just like that.” 

Harry gave him the most shocked stare he could possibly muster. 

“ _ We almost got arrested _ !” 

Louis waved his hand nonchalantly. “Meh, happens all the time.” 

“Well, it shouldn’t,” Harry replied matter-of-factly. “I’m done with this shit. Let’s go to the beach tomorrow. No. More. Pranks.” 

“Do you even  _ remember  _ the paper?” Louis accused, bewildered. “Do you even know what I’m planning?” 

“Lou, I’m exhausted, make it quick.”

The boy sighed in exasperation. “I just want to get back at, like, the person you hate the most in the history of all of humanity.” 

Harry sat up straight. 

“You are  _ not. _ ” 

“Oh, if you think I’m not you don’t know me.” Louis grinned, a sparkle in his eye. 

“You’re really doing this?” 

“Oh no, Harry,” Louis dismissed. “ _ I’m  _ not doing it.” 

Harry felt lightheaded. 

“ _ We’re  _ going to give Nick fucking Grimshaw what he deserves.” 

 


	4. 3 weeks until the end

Nick Grimshaw was, arguably, one of the worst people in the history of the entire universe. 

He was so unbelievably  _ stupid  _ that, at nineteen years of age, he was still in Harry’s grade in school; not only was he one of the most daft and idiotic people to ever walk the face of the planet, but he was also an absolute  _ arse.  _ He wasn't civilized in the slightest; he was the classic spoiled brat of a kid that got anything he wanted simply because people couldn't be bothered to care about him. And, where most people would hate that, he used it to his utmost advantage, asking for anything and everything and throwing a fit if he didn't get what he demanded instantaneously. Harry, unfortunately, knew from experience that the boy’s tantrums were the kind found in nightmares. 

Mm. It would be quite lovely if he was the one to be responsible for putting an end to the insufferable madness of Nicholas Grimshaw and his wrath at school. 

All that was left to do, really, was find out what Louis’ plan entailed, and it  _ should  _ be easy as pie. 

After all, it couldn't be  _ too  _ bad, right? Louis wasn't a bad person and he would never willingly cause an innocent person major bodily harm. 

The two key words being  _ innocent  _ and  _ major _ , the former as the exact opposite of their target, and the latter as what their course of action would most certainly result in. 

Louis drew a map, for starters. An incredibly detailed map of Nick’s house, from the garden path to the mailbox all the way around to the yard and the back patio (his house was one of the more  _ high-end _ ones in the town), and though Harry had no idea why such excessive specificity was necessary, he wasn't complaining because he was, in fact, intrigued by the absolute detail of it all. 

They were hunched over Harry’s desk at five in the evening, about two hours before they had been told dinner was to be prepared. There were five puppies curled up in a laundry basket underneath the old, shitty piece of furniture, shifting every once in awhile with adorable snorts, the five others in a plastic storage bin insulated with blankets that had been tucked discreetly underneath his bed. The summer had been pretty epic so far. And they were gonna be utilizing the puppies that they had rescued as weapons of mass destruction, which, frankly, made Harry really fucking excited. 

Louis hummed lightly under his breath as he worked. The sun was setting behind them and the room was pleasantly warm but not hot. Harry would've been bored, but he instead just felt a nice, pleasant sense of calm. This was nice. 

Nice, now, really served as a reminder of what was to come. Which then felt pretty shitty. 

“How are we supposed to get inside his window?” he curiously inspected the small lines of arrows that Louis had carefully drawn. 

“My mum kept a ladder in the basement,” he chimed casually. “Might as well use it!” 

“What do the red lines mean?” 

“That's our course.” 

“What do the blue lines mean?”

“That's where the puppies go.” 

Harry quirked an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “How do the puppies know where to go?” 

Louis capped his marker, running a hand through his already tousled hair and balancing on the back legs of his chair.

“Alright, so you know how dogs herd sheep, right?” he explained, a frank and serious expression on his face, “It's like that. Except instead of sheep it's puppies, and instead of dogs it's Nick Grimshaw, screaming as he escapes his bedroom after we release one of those gnarly stink bombs in there, yeah? He runs from the room, chases the puppies. He  _ won't  _ be able to get to his lovely parents’ room because not only are we using the dogs but we’re using their shit as well! And _ then _ he’ll run downstairs, which is where we’ll be waiting. With water guns.” He grinned, holding out his fist in a bragging invitation. 

“Why are we even using the dogs, again?” 

“Why would we not, huh?” 

“Ugh.” 

“Admit it, H. I'm a genius.”

“You're…” Harry shook his head, laughing openly at the absurdity of the hand drawn map and the adorably pleased look his friend was wearing. 

They fistbumped. 

“You're a stupid genius, Lou.” 

He let out a cheer, clapping once and kicking off the desk and spinning as many times as the flimsy chair would allow him. Harry was too happy to see him happy that he didn't bother to point out the fact that they were  _ breaking and entering _ . 

For the second time in a row.  
  


 

~

  
  


“ _ I got the call today, that I didn't wanna hear! But I knew that it would come… _ ”

“ _ An old true friend of ours was talking on the phone, said you found someone…”  _

“Boys, would you  _ please  _ keep it down up there? We have neighbors!” 

“Sorry mum!” 

“Sorry Anne!” 

“Turn the volume down, Lou!” Harry shouted over the music that was blasting, shaking the walls of his bedroom, probably rattling the windows, and most definitely giving him a fit of the giggles at 9pm. 

“Okay, okay, sorry…” 

“ _ And I thought of all the bad luck, all the troubles we've been through _ ,” Harry sang, collapsing on his bed.

“ _ How I lost me _ …” Louis grinned almost maniacally. 

“ _ And you lost you! _ ” 

Louis was nearly screaming, and Harry’s mum let them be. 

“I don't know the words!” Harry shrieked, laughing at Louis’ blunt silliness. 

“ _ What are all these voices outsiiiide love’s open door! Make us throw out our contentment, and beg for something moooore! _ ” 

Louis flopped on the bed in a perfect mirror of his friend. 

“Where did you find this again?” 

“Ha. Old CD case from like...ages ago.” The music was still pulsing through their bodies, their flushed cheeks, their wild hair. “We need good music.” 

“Everyone needs good music!” Louis cried happily. “Put in  _ The Fray  _ for me, love?” 

“Lemme check.” 

_ The Heart of the Matter  _ died down and  _ step one, you say you need to talk– _

“– _ he walks, you say sit down it's just a talk, he smiles politely back at you, you smile politely right on through. _ ” 

Harry laid back down beside Louis, listening to him sing and joining in softly, in some kind of state between relaxed and sleepy. 

“Are you sure one is late enough?” 

“ _ Some sort of window to your right, as he goes left and you stay right… _ ”

Harry giggled, tried not to, and failed. 

“Louis.” 

“ _ Between the lines of fear and blame,  _ Harry,  _ you begin to wonder why you came. _ ” 

“Lou, how do you know the words to every song?” 

“I'm magic, Harry.” He turned his head so their faces were right against one another, smiling a little too wildly to be serious and not quite big enough to be entirely joking. 

He was right. Louis was magic. 

“How do you know?” 

“The Buddha told me.” 

“You  _ liar. _ ”

“No, I swear on my life. He showed up in my dreams and he gave me some fucking magic and now I know every song ever in existence. Try me.” 

“I don't know every song ever, Lou. You know every song I own.” 

“I’ll make up a song, then.” Louis sat up straight and took about a minute to think, his tongue sticking cutely out of the corner of his mouth. He nodded a bit to himself, and then…

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing.”

“Louis.” 

“Well, it's more of a poem.” 

“You're ridiculous.”

“You're ridiculous-er.” 

They dozed off beside each other at 10pm, too contented and lazy to worry about the night’s upcoming adventure. 

  
  


~

  
  


Fact: puppies weren’t heavy. Puppies were incredibly light. 

Alternatively: puppies were heavy when transported in batches of five inside of large plastic bins. 

Not to mention Louis’ ladder which he was currently sporting as a highly impractical backpack. 

That was how they were supposed to enter the house. It was foolproof, according to the boy, they would be so ninja-stealthy that Nick would never know what hit him. Perfect. There was very little room for mistakes; for example, waking the sleeping boy. Which they'd assumed wouldn't happen. Nick was dumb, right? Weren't dumb people generally supposed to be heavy sleepers? Oblivious to their surroundings and all that? 

Hopefully that was true, and they hadn't wasted their time trekking through dark and winding along cobblestone streets to Nick Grimshaw’s house in the dead of night each carrying around fifty pounds worth of weight. (Maybe he was exaggerating a little).

“I hate…” Harry muttered to himself in between pants. Louis breathed out a strained laugh.

“You don’t get to complain,” Harry deadpanned. “This was your idea.”

“I  _ know _ , for fucks sake!” Louis huffed grumpily. “Let me live.” 

Harry didn’t bother to reply that he _was_ in fact letting Louis live, had been for the past three weeks really. This shit was heavy and he was far too distracted to make any sort of point right now. 

They must’ve been about three minutes away from the house when the first raindrop fell; plump and wet, it landed  _ plop _ on the top of Harry’s head and made him yelp. It was raining, just to make everything that much better. Harry thought, if he’d typed that, it would’ve been complete with a smiley face. 

“I felt a raindrop,” he whined. “I don’t wanna walk home in the rain.” 

“You won’t  _ melt _ , H.”

Harry heaved a dramatic sigh. The house was finally in sight, beautifully aligned with the other pristine, shiny and elegant cottages surrounded by nicely trimmed rosebushes and petite saplings. The kind of dream homes that they would both design in their heads when they were children–children with unrealistic hopes and dreams and ambitions. 

The rain had picked up once they were standing by the side of the house; Louis slid the ladder off his shoulders, almost comically sore, stretching out his back. Harry placed the box of puppies down carefully. 

“Now what?” 

They both turned their heads up to stare at the open window above. No answer was required. Only the fat raindrop that dropped straight into Harry’s eye. 

“It’s raining,” Louis stated. 

“Mm,” Harry replied. 

The ladder felt fairly sturdy, at least strong enough to support one boy at a time. Louis went first, his sneaker-clad feet wobbling ever so slightly against the metal bars, which were now becoming slightly  _ wet  _ due to the  _ water  _ now consistently falling from the sky.

The boy disappeared through the window. Harry was left alone with the two boxes of puppies. This was what he’d feared.  _ This  _ was a substantially gaping hole in their plan.

“Louis!” he spat in frightful frustration and received nothing in return. He’d been abandoned, this was it. This was his downfall. 

“Louis!"

Nothing. Jesus.    
“Oh god,” he whispered. “Oh my god.  _ Louis! _ ”

A click sounded from the front door, which was pushed open extremely slowly to reveal a Louis Tomlinson standing there in all his glory with a shockingly optimistic grin on his face.

“I  _ hate  _ you,” Harry snapped, trying to hide the abundance of relief in his voice and instead picking up a box and stalking past his friend into the dark house. 

It was completely silent; everyone was blissfully asleep in their wealthy ignorance, everyone was unaware of the two boys who had just entered their home. Harry felt a surge of excitement and thrill course through his veins, something he sort of hated himself for feeling. Well. He wasn’t allowed to be doing this, but if they weren’t caught, did it truly matter? They were going to be heroes. 

The stairs took only a moment to find. It could have been a considerably shorter amount of time, except it was pitch black and they couldn’t see anything. They were also terrified of making a single noise for fear of being caught. 

The puppies were conveniently quiet as well, only occasionally stirring to readjust themselves in their piles. It was pretty cute. 

Louis was the one to attempt to open the door that led into Nick’s bedroom. The door barely made a sound, a testament to how well the house had been cared for throughout the years. There weren’t any lights on, but they could easily make out the bed with the help of the faint streetlamps and distant moonlight which illuminated the room. They could also make out the lump of body atop the mattress, and, perhaps even simpler, the rumbling snores coming from said body. 

Louis held a finger to his lips, then tiptoed out of the room. He’d taken one of the bags of dog poo with him. Harry definitely prefered to stay away from the parents’ room now. 

“I’m not gonna do anything bad,” Louis had said innocently. “A bit of shite on a door handle isn’t gonna kill anyone.” 

“It might,” Harry replied glumly. “It’d kill me.”

Now...yes. He was quite happy to stay away. 

Meanwhile, he knelt down and gingerly removed each puppy from their sleeping positions, rubbing their snouts softly to wake them up, and momentarily they were in the mood for playtime (as small, young creatures always were). They nibbled his fingers a bit, and he smiled. 

Louis quickly returned, a kind of gleam in his eye that meant there was no escape from this now. He reached for the two small water guns stuffed in his back pockets, handing one to Harry who was still crouched beside the sleeping boy, cradling one of the fluffier, rounder pups in his hands. 

_ You ready?  _

Louis didn’t have to say anything. Harry knew what the look meant. 

  
  


~

  
  


Those stink bombs fucking  _ smelled.  _

They smelled  _ bad.  _

They barely had time to escape the room before the boy was leaping from his bed, howling in sleepy rage, nearly trampling the puppies (who were all barking in sheer excitement) and stumbling down the hallway, where he attempted to open the door to his parents’ room but was instead greeted by another surprise. When he paraded loudly down the stairs–in search of god-knows-what, really–the two boys barely had to move to spray him with the freezing cold jets of water. 

This was a thrill. Harry, meeting eyes with Louis across the dark room, was trying to stifle his laughter as the boy frantically whipped around in search of the source of the water. He heard a ruckus from upstairs: “Nicholas, darling, what on  _ earth  _ is the matter?” followed by a girlish shriek, and the two took that as their cue to leave. 

They were already out the door, standing in the pouring rain when they remembered the puppies.

“The dogs, Louis, the dogs!” 

“I know, I know!” 

They stormed back into the house in a flurry of wild hair and soaking wet clothes and pink cheeks and determination. 

How they did it, he had no fucking idea. But they had entered the house with ten puppies and escaped back through the same window with an identical ten. It should’ve been impossible. They landed softly in the grass of the front lawn and then they were running.

The rain. It had picked up. A lot. 

It tangled their hair and their eyelashes and awoke some kind of beautiful freedom. They were alive, cold rain and warm air and sparkly cobblestone streets and moonlight. 

“Louis!” Harry laughed, alive. “Where are we going?” 

Louis kept running, laughing over his shoulder at absolutely nothing at all. 

Well, the truth was they had no idea where they were going, it was two am at  _ least _ , and they were lost. About as lost as they could be while still being relatively near their own homes. 

“Louis!” 

When they finally stopped, it was in a park, under a willow tree dripping crystals and casting shadows from the streetlamps, one that they only ever saw in films. 

The puppies squirmed in their arms. They’d forgotten their boxes. It didn’t matter.

Louis led them underneath the shelter of the willow tree. He was quiet, so was Harry, as they both reclined against the trunk and slid into the damp grass. They were in shorts and t-shirts. Their trainers were sopping, skin cool. Hair plastered to the back of their necks. 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Harry panted happily, calmly. On top of the world. 

“I can.” Louis was smiling. 

The puppies were slowly extracting themselves from the boys’ arms, venturing cautiously out into the grass. 

“Do you reckon they’ll call the police?” 

Louis’ smile grew. “No. Too scared. And imagine telling the story.” He chuckled softly. “Too ridiculous.”

Louis. He stared at the sky, a kind of beautiful glossy joy covering his bright blue eyes, roses in his cheeks and in his lips, and wisps of gold in his hair. His eyelashes were curled up towards his eyebrows. A drop of water fell from his earlobe and ran along his shoulder.

Harry was watching him, couldn’t look away. Drunk on adrenaline and laughter and wind. 

“Lou,” he murmured after a moment. The boy hummed as he always did, never looking away from the night sky peaking through the tree branches above their heads. 

“Why do we do these things?” 

Louis exhaled into the silent air that pattered with rain. If only, Harry thought.

“You’re too young to be caged,” Louis whispered. 

A prickle of confusion stirred in his chest. 

“You’re only two years older than me.” Harry blinked slowly. 

“Yeah. I know. Lie down with me. In the rain.” 

Louis crawled outside the protective cover of the tree. He splayed his limbs out, opening himself up to the sky. 

Harry followed him wordlessly. 

“What do you mean, Lou?” he asked after they both closed their eyes against the water pelting their faces. A puppy walked over Harry’s chest. 

Louis sighed. 

“When I leave,” he began, “will you help mum with the girls?” 

Leave.

_ Leave.  _

That was why they were here, doing this. This was the summer of goodbyes, the summer of conclusions, the summer of tears, the end of an era.    


“I’ll always help with the girls,” Harry choked out, trying to not burst into tears. Maybe he’d already shed a couple. They blended with the rain that soaked through their clothes, their skin, their organs, and instead of feeling warm Harry suddenly felt  _ cold.  _

“I trust you,” Louis said. “I know you’ll do good.” Their hands were really, really close to touching. 

“You’re coming back, though,” Harry said, voice caught between a promise to himself and a question to Louis. He was clutching onto his emotional stability by a fraying thread of hope.

Louis was silent for a moment, then…

“I’ll always come back to you. You’re...you’re not gonna forget me though, yeah?” There was a strain on his voice that meant he was also struggling to keep it together, and Harry’s eyes burned. 

“How could I forget you, Lou? Do you know what we just did? We got back at Nick  _ fucking  _ Grimshaw. We did that. Together, Lou, we did that together. How could I forget you?” 

“I just–”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Louis Tomlinson, and if you think someone like me could ever forget you, you’re lying to yourself. You’re an inspiration. A legend. Nobody could forget you.”

There were Harry’s words, hanging in the air, falling with the rain and making his throat hurt. His heart was suspended right there just in front of Louis’ face. It must’ve been too dark to see.

“You…” he was a bit shaky and not at all like himself. “You mean that?” 

Maybe, just maybe, Harry let their hands touch, graze. 

“With all of me.” 

The only sign that they had been out and about that night were the small cardboard box of various sized puppies placed in front of the town’s animal shelter and the note that came with it: 

_ They were a wonderful help. Give them all the love in the whole world :)  _

_ -L.T. and H.S.  _


	5. 2 weeks until the end

It took longer than Harry expected for his mother to finally mention something. 

She took a casual forkful of her potatoes. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Louis, love.” 

“Mm,” Harry replied around his food, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Any particular reason?” 

He looked at her expectantly for a moment, wondering exactly what she was implying because of course he was with Louis, it was summer and his home life was proper boring and Louis was pretty much his only friend. Of course, he didn’t tell her any of this.

“Uhm, I guess we’ve just been hanging out more. What with...school being out and all.”

Harry’s mum smiled pleasantly, tensely. “Have you been at his house?”

“Yeah.” Harry ignored the coiling of guilt in the pit of his stomach from lying to his own mother. 

“Hmm.” She didn’t speak for a moment, letting silence wash over the near empty table and making Harry even more nervous because he’d been quite worried about getting into trouble with the police and had neglected to think about his family’s potential suspicion.

“...what?” Harry asked slowly. 

“No, it’s just funny. Because I got a call from Jay saying Louis had been sleeping here an awful lot and she was wondering if he was upset.” She paused again, rolling the words over her tongue in contemplation. “Has he mentioned being upset to you? Is he upset about all this?”

“Um,” Harry said, because. Well. Because  _ was _ Louis upset about all this? The thought of Louis being upset made his heart hurt. Because Louis being upset would explain the night before last; because Louis being upset would explain lying under a pouring sky in the pitch black of three in the morning, because Louis being upset would explain ‘ _ you’re too young to be caged _ .’

_ You’re too young to be caged.  _ It had kept him up. Made him stare at the ceiling and wonder what on earth Louis wasn’t telling him, because this wasn’t him. This wasn’t his Louis. 

“Um,” he repeated. His mum raised an eyebrow in concern.

“I...he’s been okay I think? Coping?” Every word came out as a tentative question and honestly, the truth was he didn’t really know which honestly terrified him because Louis was his best friend and he should have known everything.

With a single sigh, his mother leaned forward and looked him straight in the eye. 

“You haven’t been at Lou’s and you haven’t been here. Harry, love. What’s been going on?” 

“I…well…” he stammered, fork suspended in the air mere inches from his mouth. 

“Just tell me the truth. Have you been going to parties or something? Because I’d just like to know.” 

A pit formed in the bottom of his stomach. He hated himself.

He let out a hopefully-convincing deflated breath, sinking back into his chair. 

“It’s my fault,” he stammered out. “I...I’m gonna be 18. There are people I’m…” the word stuck in his throat, “...friends with who have permission from their parents to throw these parties, and I thought it would be fun to go, and I didn’t ask you because I knew you’d say no and I’m sorry.” His shoulders sunk in humiliation, both at his lie and at the heart-wrenching guilt he felt from not telling his mother about something even though it was actually a fake story. He waited expectantly, anxiously, for her reply. 

“H, love,” she said gently, “I’m not angry. I just want to know these things, so I can look after you.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, choosing to stare blankly at the wall and steadfastly ignoring the heat building in his face. 

“I know you’re an adult and you’re mature and responsible, but others aren’t.”

“You let Gemma do everything she wants,” he mumbles, a childish reply, having nothing to do with his little (big) lie, and having everything to do with running away somewhere with Louis and never looking back. 

“I do, but Gemma’s at uni. I can’t be there all the time to look after her. Even though I wish I could.” 

Harry didn’t say anything, and his food laid in front of him, taunting and forgotten and cold. Wasted.

“You’re going to head off to uni as well soon, and I’m going to be all by myself. Yeah? Just let me be your mum before you get too old.”

“You’ll always be my mum,” he sighed. He knew she was smiling softly even though he wasn’t directly looking at her.

In his mind was the thought of university. And somehow, he’d never thought about this seriously, even when Louis himself brought it up, but…

He could leave too. Not that he wanted to abandon his mum, abandon this place, this house, but...he was almost eighteen and he’d already investigated different places and Manchester University was definitely going to have to be one of them.

It would  _ have  _ to be. Because if Louis was going to uni somewhere far away from him, he would have to follow. 

  
  


~

  
  


The next time he saw his best friend, it was the middle of the night, they were in a possibly-stolen van, and they were driving down the highway, hurtling towards the Rovers’ football stadium.

Harry had become slightly lax when it came to his typical stubborn and law-abiding manner; no, he’d actually ditched it at this point. Because Louis hadn’t really given him a direct answer when he had asked where the van was from, they didn’t have any police on their tail (yet), and the music that was blasting through the speakers, cutting sharply through the night air, awakening every inch of their bodies, was quite phenomenal. 

It was  _ Sweater Weather _ , and as if screaming the words wasn’t enough, every musical interlude was interrupted by howling laughter and  _ wait rewind rewind that’s the good part! _ . It wasn’t sweater weather, not yet, but the windows were open and there was no sun to warm them and although it wasn’t cold it was  _ cold _ , cold and warm and dark and starry and quiet and loud. 

Louis was really the loud, of course. He didn’t know that Harry had been watching him while he sat with one arm dangling out the window and the other controlling the van. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Harry shouted fondly over the music and the wind and Louis. 

“ _ You’re  _ ridiculous!” Louis whooped with joy. 

And...the way his hair was flopping towards one side and blowing furiously as the car sped away from the town and into what felt like the middle of nowhere, the way his eyes sparkled and shone, the way he was so  _ happy _ . It didn’t make Harry jealous or irritated. It made him happy too.

He was kind of beautiful. Mostly beautiful. Entirely beautiful. And he was here and they were together and Harry could never forget about him or leave him or move on to a new best friend. He was too far gone. 

  
  


~

  
  


The stadium was so quiet that it was almost eerie, only faint whispers of distant wind and their own breathing interrupting the silence.

A thrill that came rushing over Harry as they crossed the car park, their lonely van taking up a single space. The stadium was huge. They had been before, most times Louis and Harry had come together with their families; oad trip in the morning full of singing and young children shrieking, lunch out, afternoon watching a game, candy floss and lemonade, long drive home at night, fast asleep with their heads pressed together. Now it was empty and so, so different.

“Are there guards here?” Harry inquired timidly as Louis guided him through the lines of neatly parked golf carts poorly illuminated by the dim lighting.

“Probably not.” Louis snorted. “I don’t think they care enough to keep a couple of teenage boys out, not that we’re doing anything actually wrong.” Harry couldn’t see his face but he could clearly see the quirk of his brow and his small grin. 

Harry smiled, and nobody saw.

A kind of musty smell, possibly paint or something, hit him when they reached the end of the large room and passed through the doors leading to...the locker rooms. The dressing rooms. The athletes they idolized had  _ been  _ here, and now they were touching the same ground, seeing the same things. It was so surreal, and Louis was evidently experiencing the same set of emotions as they trekked down the seemingly endless corridor. 

It smelled kinda bad and kinda good and they completely loved it. 

They were awfully close to the actual field now. Could already feel the chill in the air even though they were still inside, shielded by several walls. Several walls in every direction except for one, because this one, the one they were facing, only had  _ one _ layer of wall and two hallways, both leading straight to the outside. 

A large net bag full to the very brim with shiny footballs was hanging on a hook a few feet away from them. Neither of them could resist, and immediately yanked it off the hook and then, with one exchanged look, were running down the hallway as fast as they could possibly manage, shoulders hitting each other and feet colliding with the ground firmly and then…

It was so easy to see the stars from their current position on the field. The sky was sparkling and the grass was wet and the seats stretched endlessly towards the stars and Harry thought he could hear car horns and city sounds even though it was impossible. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Louis whispered breathlessly, quiet enough that only Harry would be able to hear if there were other people around them. 

But there weren’t. They were alone, and Louis said everything as if it was the most precious secret ever uttered in the history of humanity and Harry took every single precious secret and savored it and shoved it deep in the back pocket of his brain so he’d always have it there and he’d always remember the words Louis had told him.

He never wanted it to end. The way his boy whooped with joy and ran through the grass for no apparent reason. Harry ran too. They weren’t running from anything or towards anything, they were just running and it felt  _ so fucking amazing  _ and he  _ never _ ,  _ ever  _ wanted this to end.

“H, play some footie with me!” Louis shouted. He took a brief running start and kicked the football almost all the way across the stadium, driven by adrenaline and energy and happiness. 

They played football like two stupidly irresponsible and absolutely carefree teenage boys. Which they were.

They dove into the dirt and they tackled each other, they slid in the mud and definitely cheated and had no respect for the ground they walked on because it didn’t matter, not really. It was just grass, and Harry was having a marvelous time. 

The moon directly over their heads signalled past midnight, probably one or two am by now. At this point, Harry would usually be in tense worrying mode,  _ when would they be heading back  _ and  _ why were they taking so long  _ and  _ why did we decide to do this.  _ But this time felt different somehow; this time  _ was  _ different. Because now this wasn’t some crazy stunt or some stupid prank or some silly thing they’d done. This felt so raw and real and something about the look on Louis’ face, giddiness and contentment and blissful oblivion to the rest of the world, tugged on Harry’s heart and pulled at his stomach and made him a little dizzy and a little drunk on something... _ something  _ he knew was different and new and sad and good and beautiful and heartbreaking. 

Yes. That was why tonight was different. 

  
  


~

  
  


They’d probably spent more time lying in the damp grass than they actually spent playing footie.

Stargazing was something Harry had spent an awful lot of time doing lately, and he was starting to feel its effects on his thought process. He felt poetic tonight, he felt like singing or something, shrieking a beautiful song or journaling (Jesus, what had he become?) or spilling his thoughts out to someone who would understand. 

Louis. Louis would understand. And even though Harry hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol tonight, he was on the edge of blurting out a million reasons why he adored Louis Tomlinson when, very, very quietly, from the body lying next to him…

“I’m still alive but I’m barely breathin’.”

A moment’s pause while the sound penetrated the gentle silence and caused Harry’s eyes to well up a bit. 

“Just prayin’ to a god that I don’t believe in.” 

Harry sighed softly, closed his eyes. This hit a bit too close to home.

“‘Cause I got time while she got freedom.” 

Harry dared to open his mouth,

“ _ And when a heart breaks, no it don’t breakeven _ .”

“Louis,” Harry whispered. He only heard one sniff, but it was enough to shatter his heart into a million pieces. 

“Louis,” he repeated, sitting up, looking down at the boy. “Please. Talk to me, please.” 

Louis hid his face in the crook of his elbow. “What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you, H?” His voice came out in a kind of strangled whisper. He was crying. Louis was crying. Louis The Tommo Tomlinson was fucking crying.

What had the world come to?   


Suddenly Harry was crying too, for absolutely no reason; just seeing Louis like this made his insides crumble and turn into ash. Hot tears caught on his eyelashes and stilled momentarily on the tip of his nose before falling off into the grass, mixing with the gentle drizzle that had begun to fall and the wet dirt underneath their bodies. Forgotten.

“Louis?” he pleaded. “Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”  

There was a long moment where Harry didn’t actually think Louis was going to answer; where he feared he would be sitting here forever, waiting for this boy to share with him what was so terrible that he was crying, borderline sobbing, on what might’ve been the most incredible night of Harry’s life. 

And then he answered, and if it was even possible, Harry felt even sadder.

“You’re it, Harry. You’re the best part of me. And I can’t fucking leave. Not like this.”

“You have to,” Harry choked. “I’m so sorry. I’m so,  _ so  _ sorry, but you have to go. You can’t not go to this place, you deserve so much better than here. Than this town.”

“When I go, everything changes,” Louis said. “My sisters grow up. My mum moves on. I’m not...a legend at school anymore. I’m not me, that’s not who I am.” He let out a shaky breath. “If I leave, you’ll move on from this, from what we are, and I can’t let that happen. Not after everything. Not after this.” 

He sat up, slowly, at last removing his arm from his face and meeting Harry’s eyes. His blue ones were sparkling even more than usual. He was so beautiful.

“Lou, you know I could never move on. Who could move on from you? You’re Louis. You’re beautiful and you’re strong and there’s not a soul on this earth who couldn’t love you.” 

His breath hitched in the back of his throat. 

“There’s not a soul on this earth who couldn’t love you,” he repeated, rain falling onto his back and soaking through his shirt. 

Louis hugged him. Hugged him close and tight and squeezed him hard and didn’t let him go. They fit perfectly together. Didn’t move for a long time.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he mumbled against Harry’s neck eventually. “I don’t wanna leave you.” 

Harry pressed his cheek firmly into the side of Louis’ head. Ignored the tears that hadn’t stopped falling. 

_ Baby, you’re all that I want...when you’re lying here in my arms… _

For the first time, Harry maybe, slightly understood why tonight was different, as  _ Heaven _ played all around them, swallowed them whole, spat them back out again and left them broken in this muddy stadium.

He never wanted to leave this place. Ever.  _ Not after this _ . 

“It’ll be okay,” Harry soothed, and he couldn’t decide if he believed it or not. 


	6. 1 week until the end

The last week Harry and Louis would be spending together began with a meltdown.

It wasn’t the kind of  _ oh my god my hair's a mess  _ meltdown or a  _ I’m a hormonal and mentally unstable teenager and I am currently going through a crisis  _ meltdown. It was  _ that  _ meltdown.  _ The  _ meltdown. 

The Sexuality Meltdown _.  _

He...should’ve been handling this way better considering his best friend was gay, considering he’d known that this was a highly plausible situation. The meltdown. The Sexuality Meltdown. This was it, it was happening now, he was much too far to turn back, and he was ready to pull his hair out.

Or punch a wall. Yeah, that would work too. 

The thing was, he’d locked himself in his room. Not that he planned on doing anything bad, escaping out the window or something, no, he was okay. He just needed some time to...think about things. Think about the reason why he was having this crisis now of all times. 

Conveniently, it’d been right after a sentimental and emotional night spent with his best friend. That was probably what terrified him the most. That it had been some kind of trigger; last night had set off some kind of switch in his brain. The gay switch. The gay switch had been turned on, or at least, the gay switch had always been on and had finally started to work properly. He had one week left to spend with Louis, and this was not how he wanted to be spending it. 

Well...that was the thing. He kept telling himself this was a bad thing, a terrible thing, but maybe there was a part of him, deep inside, that was a mildly relieved. That he had a week left to prove something to himself, to act on...whatever  _ this  _ was.

Not that he ever would. He didn’t have that kind of courage. But it was nice to imagine. 

He estimated it’d be approximately ten minutes before his mother suspected something was wrong; she’d knock on the door, he’d dry the tears he had shed and stop his pacing, they’d sit down and he’d say the thing and she’d say ‘I will always love you and support you, Harry,’ and that would be that. 

Of course, he'd had Louis as a role model for years, and even though he knew this already, he had to remind himself it wasn’t that easy for everyone.

When his mum knocked on the door, it had been only seven minutes. Already, she’d exceeded his expectations. 

The first thing she glimpsed was the boy lying face down on the bed, arms curled around his pillow, legs drawn underneath him to his chest. Harry heard her sigh once, as if she already knew what was happening. 

“Harry, baby,” she murmured softly, perching beside his bed and laying a gentle hand on his back. The touch seemed to calm him and heighten his emotions all at once. He hated being a teenager.

“What’s wrong?”

He choked out something between a laugh and a sob, because everything was wrong, that was the  _ problem _ .

“Everything,” he snuffled into his pillowcase. “Mum, everything’s wrong.” 

She sighed again, all motherly and kind. “Now, love, what could possibly be so terrible that you're here, so upset, when you should be enjoying yourself with Louis?” 

“I can't see Louis right now.” 

She clucked worriedly. “Oh, baby, look at me.” 

He withdrew his face from its makeshift nest and blinked up at her through teary eyes; his face must have looked a right mess, all blotchy and red.

“I’m not going to pressure you into telling me anything,” she told him, “But I hope you know how much I love you, and that I’ll support you in anything you decide to do, yeah?” 

That was it. 

He was going to be okay.

  
  


~

  
  


Louis phoned Harry that afternoon, once, twice when he didn’t answer, a third time when he ignored that as well. 

It wasn’t that he was purposefully ignoring him, really, it was that he simply needed a day. Just a day, to sort through his head, to figure out what he was going to do (not that he could do anything, there was no turning back from this now), and to decide his plan of action when it came to actually telling Louis. The thought terrified him for some reason. It wasn’t...it wasn’t like he was  _ confessing his love  _ or anything. Was it?

Either way, he only bothered to pick up his phone when he received a second voicemail. Louis would just come over if there had something important to say, so there had to have been something going on; perhaps he’d been drinking or something and didn’t have a ride. Not that Harry would really be able to help, because he still couldn’t drive, he’d failed his test twice, but that seemed like the only logical explanation. Harry’s stomach twisted at the thought of Louis alone, drunk and uninhibited. 

Of course, his mind had already jumped to the worst possible conclusion behind Louis’ calls. That was the state he was currently in. 

“ _ Heyyyy, H! _ ” the voice on the other end burst out, excitement and anticipation and  _ Louis.  _ His stomach hurt. 

“ _ So, here’s the deal, yeah? Basically, we’re going on a road trip, right, it’s a surprise, but I’m gonna need you to pack a bag, just like, some clothes and a toothbrush and shit. Socks. Just like, a backpack. And, erm, I’ll meet you at yours, five am tomorrow! Be right outside. Please.” _

The line went dead.

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid... _ he tossed his phone back onto his bed and buried his face in his hands. He was going on a road trip with Louis, and somehow the gods had deemed it necessary to remind him that he had a week, one single week until Louis was leaving. So he wasn’t going to refuse, how could he? Either he refused the opportunity to sit in a car with his best friend for a couple hours because he was having a delayed sexuality crisis, or he fucked all of that and actually attempted to enjoy his final week of uninterrupted friendship. 

He was going with the latter, he decided, and without calling Louis back, began furiously stuffing his duffel bag full of clothes. 

  
  


~

  
  


There were mosquitoes buzzing beside his ears when he emerged from his house in the dim light of early morning.

It was humid, muggy; a sheen of perspiration had collected on his upper lip, his shirt clung to his back with the remainders of his shower, his duffel hanging loose and near-empty in his grasp. The sky was the kind of deep blue that indicated the sunrise but it was not yet bright enough to illuminate anything the flickering porch lights couldn’t. He stood there for a minute, and a minute turned into five minutes, and five minutes turned into ten minutes, and he was still sitting on that doorstep, elbows resting on his knees, twenty minutes later, feet mindlessly kicking the warm dusty dirt at his feet. 

That was when the car came screeching up. Shiny silver rims, glossy, black, clean windows. Harry knew…nothing about cars. But this one was fucking awesome. 

And right there, in the driver’s seat, was Louis Tomlinson, unlit cigarette hanging from his teeth, cheap aviators perched on his nose, hair damp and stuck to his forehead with sweat, shirt unbuttoned to halfway down his chest,  _ The Eagles  _ pumping through the speakers, bassy and loud. 

Harry smiled. Louis opened the door, stepped out and removed his glasses. 

“Ready?” he said simply, and Harry felt himself swoon.

“Yeah,” he stuttered. Louis grinned at him, as if he knew exactly what the other boy was thinking.

Harry’s meltdown was forgotten, Louis’ tears were gone, and he didn't really care where the hell this fine car had come from, all he cared about was that they were together and they were about to get away from this godforsaken place, for however long that meant. A couple of days, a couple of nights. A motel in a distant town. Muffins and bagels and breakfast teas full of sugar. 

Louis, effortlessly beautiful as per usual, walked around to the passenger side, opening the door and giving Harry a kind of smoldering smirk, because he was just like that. Harry could only shake his head minutely because this must've been a dream. 

“Where are we going?” he questioned once he was seated and his voice had returned, Louis gazing at him expectantly from where his hand was perched on the car door. 

“Surprise.” He winked. “But I’m picking the music.” 

Of course he was. Harry wouldn’t expect anything else. 

And he didn’t mind. Not in the slightest, listening to  _ Hotel California.  _ They drove off, and there should’ve been a sunset in the distance, because it was the end of their summer, but to Harry the glowing sunrise meant it was simply the beginning. 

Louis had a mountain of snacks piled in the backseat, crisps and sweets and bottles of soda. They’d never finish it all, (they might, when he thought about it), but it meant Louis had planned an epic venture, long, with windows down for hours and sore stomachs. Louis reached back when he saw Harry’s gaze and tossed him a box of cookies, the crumbly chocolate ones that were actually pretty gross but still amazing when he hadn’t eaten and the weather was sweltering. 

The chocolate melted into their hands and under their fingernails. The speakers boomed.

“So what’s all of this about?” Harry said after they’d left his house in the dust and were on the highway. “I feel underdressed, if I’m being completely honest.”

Louis grinned, not taking his eyes away from the road in front of him. “Thought it’d be nice to just...get away for a bit. Go somewhere nice, yeah? I mean, how often do we get to do this?” 

“How long will we be driving for though?”

“Give it…” He tapped his chin comically in thought. “Three hours. Give or take.”

“That’s far, Lou.” 

“I know.” He quirked his eyebrows.

Harry laughed a bit. “Yeah, I’m not gonna ask where you got the car.” 

Louis smirked again, which was answer enough. 

“Borrowed it,” he murmured after some comfortable silence. “You know me.” 

“Yeah,” Harry drawled, smile creeping into his voice. “I do.” 

  
  


~

  
  


“Harry, dear,” Louis said, waking him up from the sleepy and sweaty and happy state that he’d been floating through for the past hour. He still had no idea where they were headed. 

“Mhmm, Lou,” he said, voice stuffy and jaw sore from all the chewing he had been doing. 

“I’m gonna pull into a rest stop for a moment, gotta take a piss. Want any food or anything?” 

Harry gave him a look, and Louis chuckled, patting his knee once and leaving. 

He watched the boy’s walk, how he was so comfortable in his own skin, how although it could have been the hottest day of the year and the sun was out and bright and hot, and he was in  _ skinny jeans _ , he looked like a model, all swagger and confidence. Harry watched him enter the small complex of convenience stores and McDonald’s and public loos, how he took the sunglasses off his face and slid them neatly onto his shirt. 

There was a split second where he flashed back to the night before, but he quickly pushed it out of his mind before he began panicking again. 

He didn’t have to tell Louis yet. Not until later. When they weren’t so happy. 

His eyes listlessly; the place was relatively empty, a couple cars parked lonely and steaming in the heat, a few birds chirping tiredly somewhere in the distance. A road sign caught his eye. 

_ London, 104.1 miles.  _

London was roughly two hours from where they were at the moment. They’d been driving for an hour. Louis had said three hours, give or take.

Of course, his mind instantly leapt to the conclusion that they were headed to London. After all, it made the most sense. But this wasn’t supposed to be a big city adventure; this was supposed to be drunk motels and loud music and nobody to bother them. 

Louis was up to something, he had no idea what, but this wasn’t like him at all, and if they were going to London, they’d need money and a place to stay. Neither of which they had. 

Soon enough, Louis came skipping out of the complex. Harry was at an utter loss, because was he supposed to bring it up? Or was he supposed to wait until they were in London and it was far too late?

They were driving away before Harry was able to say anything, and by then he felt too guilty.

He should’ve known better than to stay silent, was the thing. Because as he watched the street signs flash by as Louis accelerated, as the mile count increased, he only grew more anxious, and as the music endlessly droned on and on, Louis’ smile faded into a thin, faint line. 

“Louis,” Harry muttered quietly during a pause in the music between  _ Waiting in the Weeds  _ and whatever the next song was going to be. “Where are we going, mate?”

Silence. He was met with utter silence, his friend’s face turning slightly more sour. They hit a pothole. 

“Louis,” he repeated, and the boy let out a pained sigh before the car slowed, pulling into a shoulder. He shifted the gear into park and hid his face in his hands, music cranking in the background.  _ Desperado.  _

“Louis.”

“I was fucking scared, okay?” he said, and Harry blinked. 

“What are you–”

“I’m sorry, alright, I am, I just had to get away because I was gonna go crazy.” He turned his face so their eyes met. “I’m not fucking leaving, no way. That’s not...that’s not the life I want. That’s not what’s meant to happen for me.”

“It’s too late,” Harry blurted out. “You can’t...you can’t just not go, okay? We’ve been over this. Your mum is paying for you to go, man! You don’t get to abandon everything this summer has been  _ leading up to. _ ”

“I’m an adult,” Louis said, running a hand through his hair, a bit shaken around the edges. “I can do what the fuck I want, yeah? And I’m not gonna go to school and major in fucking  _ sociology  _ when I should be here. I’ll be a footie coach or summat, yeah? That’s what I want.”

“You can change your major!” Harry exclaimed. “You don’t need to major in sociology, bloody hell, you can do anything you want, but you have to go to school.” 

“You were the one who was opposed to this whole thing in the first place.” Louis shook his head bitterly. “Now you’re telling to me go, what am I supposed to make of that? I guess promises can be broken, huh?” 

And...wow. That stung. That hit him right in the heart. 

“This is for  _ you _ , Lou, this is your education for fuck’s sake and I’m not gonna watch you sit at home, unemployed, in five years, smoking weed on your mum’s sofa and wishing you’d taken this fucking opportunity.”

Louis up and left. Opened the car door and walked a few feet away so that he was standing right beside the empty road, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around desperately as if something would stop him from screaming his lungs out on the side of this road. 

“Lou,” Harry said, getting out of the car and watching as he sunk into a crouch. “Jesus, do you realize how much this hurts me? How much I wish you could stay? I’m doing this for  _ you _ , you selfish bastard. Because I…” A lump of something lodged itself in his throat. He wanted to cry.

Louis stood up and turned around. 

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he hissed. “Don’t ever say that. You deserve better.” 

Harry took a breath. A long, painful breath.

“You don’t get to throw everything away. Not after this.”

“I’m not throwing anything away. That’s the whole point, don’t you see? And don’t call me selfish. You have no idea how much this hurts me too, that’s why I’m fucking staying!”

Something hot and fierce, fiery and unknown erupted in his chest, and in a strange burst of courage, Harry surged forward and firmly pressed his lips on the other boy’s. He tried to ignore the sense of finality that made his eyes well with angry tears and instead focused on the way Louis’ lashes fluttered against his face, the way Louis’ hands gently moved to his waist, the way Louis’ lips were soft and absolutely perfect, and the way he wasn’t breathing but he didn’t really need or care to. 

It was a long time before he pulled away. 

_ This changes everything _ , he thought, cupping Louis’ face in his hands and wondering how the hell he’d gone so long without having done that before. 

“What the bloody fuck was that for?” Louis said weakly, but made no effort to step away.

“Just…” Harry began, breathless. “Just don’t say anything. Please?” 

Louis didn’t reply, and crashed their mouths together once again. 

They were spun around, lost in some weird daze; Harry’s back pressed up against the hood of the car, his hands scrambling to grip Louis, his shirt, his hair. Louis’ thumb slipped into the belt loops of his jeans, pulled, and somehow it was like their fight had never happened. It was over. It didn’t matter. This mattered, this fucking mattered more than anything else and Harry was not going to let go, not ever. 

Somehow, without either of them realizing, they had been kissing for so long that it was afternoon by the time they finally separated. The sun burned into their skin, their lips red and swollen and their eyes puffy from crying that had gone unnoticed. 

Harry’s kissed Louis’ forehead as he leaned against the hood of the car and his stomach stirred with something mysterious that made an ache build in his throat. 

“I’m not gonna fight with you anymore,” he whispered into his hair. Louis was short enough to lean his head on Harry’s chest. “Do what you want. But now, you know what I want.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m a bit conflicted at the moment,” Louis lulled, tilting his head upwards and pressing his lips to the other boy’s collarbone. “Let’s just go, yeah? London. Come with me. You wanna drive?”

“You’re sure?”

Louis turned to look at the silent and empty road. 

“No harm in it.”

And so they took off, and Louis kept his hand steady on Harry’s knee the whole time.

  
  


~

  
  


London was quite big if he was being honest. 

Harry wasn’t accustomed to the hustle and bustle of city life; there were people shouting into their phones and cars honking away as if it would magically remove the traffic and college kids laughing noisily. And as much as Harry resented being here, resented Louis’ stubbornness, the poor boy still hadn’t moved his hand and every now and then, they’d look at each other, smile a bit because they’d just fucking  _ done that _ , and carried on again. 

So...yeah. That took a while to hit him. He had just kissed Louis Tomlinson. He’d kissed his best friend. He’d kissed a  _ boy.  _ He hadn't even come out yet and they’d kissed which meant they were probably  _ together  _ now, like that was a  _ thing _ , and oh god, what was he going to tell his mother.

They’d switched off driving about an hour ago; Louis seemed to be moving effortlessly through the weaving roads as if he knew exactly where they were going. When asked again by Harry, he’d said that he had some friends who were willing to put them up until they had a proper plan. Harry felt a small part of him deflate when he realized that this was yet another thing Louis had never told him. 

“They’re nice,” Louis said, not moving his eyes from the busy road. “My friends, I mean. You’ll like them. Good people.” It seemed like he was using mindless conversation to pass the time. 

“I’m sure they are,” Harry replied, quietly, after a moment. 

The car ended up parked in front of a tall brick apartment building. The walls looked worn and weathered enough for it to be fairly old, and there were air conditioners peaking out of almost every window, as if they would make a substantial difference in the absolutely miserable temperature.

“Louis, I don’t know about this,” Harry said carefully. “You sure you don’t wanna head to a motel or something? It’s probably safer.”

“I know these guys,” Louis told him firmly. “I...I wouldn’t put you in danger.” 

He rang the buzzer, 307. Harry wondered how old Louis’ friends were. Obviously old enough to have their own flat. His stomach turned unsurely. 

A loud, heavily  _ Irish  _ voice answered; “Who is it?” 

“It’s Louis. And…” Louis gave Harry a brief side glance. “Harry.” 

“Right, come on up.” The door clicked, and Louis led them up the stairs. 

 


	7. 1 week until the end - pt 2

Niall Horan was the lad’s name, and he was very, very, unabashedly Irish. 

He offered them a cup of black coffee upon their arrival, despite the sweltering heat outside, which Louis accepted gratefully, laughing and smiling and  _ happy _ , and which Harry accepted reluctantly. Louis’ mug was now empty, and Harry’s was lukewarm and untouched at its place on the coffee table. 

The setup of the flat was quite strange. There were two loveseats and a tattered armchair that Niall himself had reclined in. The coffee table was painted bright blue, and practically every inch of the walls were covered in photos, pictures, drawings. Harry had been taken aback when he entered, because each and every photograph was beyond gorgeous, not black and white, all full of bursting, vibrant color. A little girl going down a slide, giddy smile on her face. A young boy in a dance class, standing proud next to his female peers. A group of teenagers lounging in the grass. And the drawings; all scenery, muted colors, oceans and sunsets and forests. 

“I did the drawings,” Niall said, when he saw Harry inspecting them. “Liam and I, we’re art majors. He likes to focus on what’s real, yeah, that’s why he chose photography. I like pretty things.” He quirked his eyebrows comically in Harry’s direction. 

“Ignore him, H,” Louis laughed softly. “Niall’s about as straight as a wooden plank.”

“Who is this...Liam guy, again?” Harry asked reluctantly, finally sitting down next to Louis and inching closer by the second. He wasn’t sure why he expected an arm to wrap around his waist or rest on top of his shoulders. 

“You’ll--” Momentarily, they all spun around to face the sound of a key in the door, and in walked a young man, near Louis’ age, wearing a band tee, flannel shirt tied around his waist, paint splattered jeans. 

He smiled brightly at the trio. “Louis!” he exclaimed, who stood up instantly, and they pulled each other into a friendly hug. Harry felt a bit out of place. 

“You must be Harry,” Liam greeted cheerfully, glancing down at where he was sitting on the couch, mildly uncomfortable. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He held out a big paw, gave him a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle, and somehow Harry felt the knots in his stomach uncoil a little bit. 

“Yeah,” he said, tentatively shaking Liam’s hand. “Cheers.”

“‘lright!” Niall burst out after a few long seconds of heavy silence. “Let’s get you folks sorted, set up your room and all that, and then we’ll take you to dinner, how’s that?” 

“Thanks, Nialler.” Louis rested his hand on the small of Harry’s back as Niall led them down the hallway to a relatively small spare room with one queen bed, a yellow shag rug, and a tiny, obsolete cube-shaped television on top of a sun colored coffee table. 

“I decorated this one,” Niall said proudly, glancing around the room and nodding happily. “See them pictures?” He gestured wildly to the paintings on the wall. “Some of my older works. Also...we only have the one bed, sorry, so either you’ll share or sleep on the floor.” He gave the two of them an unidentifiable look. “Yeah, I’ll let you both settle in.” He left.

Harry watched as Louis discarded his backpack on the bed, sat for a moment and glanced around the room. Harry slid his own duffel off his shoulder, gingerly sat beside him. They were both silent for a moment. 

“How do you know them?” Harry murmured. 

“They went to our school, H,” he responded wearily. “Left around the same time as me to some fancy arts uni in the city. Both my age, both...incredibly talented. What do you think of them?” 

“I think...they’re very nice,” Harry contemplated. Louis nodded, sighed, stared steadfastly at the wall. 

“When are we gonna talk about this?” 

The other boy closed his eyes at Harry’s words, because he knew exactly what needed to be talked about, except he made no move to say anything. He remained silent, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“We have to,” Harry insisted, brushing their shoulders together. “Because…” He ignored the stirring anxiety in his chest. “You know how I feel, yeah? But...if you…” God, this was too hard. Especially considering Louis was  _ sitting  _ there, not doing  _ anything.  _ And Harry felt absolutely humiliated at this point, because he knew. He knew that it wasn’t the same for Louis, even though he wasn’t confirming it nor denying it. He still knew. 

He was expecting Louis’ next words to be the things that shattered his very existence, his being. 

He did not expect Louis to turn his head and connect their lips for the second time that day. 

There was a split second in which Harry was entirely frozen. His heart had probably stopped, every nerve, every cell completely still. 

And then, everything was moving; Louis’ hand coming up to cradle the back of his neck, Louis’ mouth moving against his, Louis’ chest lifting with every gentle breath,  _ Louis.  _ It was...overwhelming, the feeling of not needing words to express how the other was feeling. It was beautiful, and as Harry grew more and more comfortable and content, he let himself move too; let his hands roam Louis’ back, Louis’ hair, Louis’ chest. A strangled gasp left Harry’s mouth when Louis, soft and calm, slipped his tongue into the kiss. 

“This answer enough?” Louis whispered after a moment, resting his forehead against Harry’s while the both of them breathed together. 

“Yeah,” he replied, panting. 

It was a while before they moved. 

  
  


~

  
  


The restaurant was more like a pub, really; the lights were dim and orange and brown and yellow tones and it smelled like beer and ale and there were old men chuckling and students laughing and Louis fit right into the chaos of the night, but it took Harry almost two drinks until he felt loose and comfortable enough to join in on whatever conversation Louis was finding so utterly hilarious.  

“You’re 18, right, Harry?” Liam asked loudly. “Sixth form, eh? Or, already done with?” 

“17,” Harry told him slowly, rolling the words across his tongue, fuzziness warming his mind. “Sixth form next year. Then uni, I guess.” 

“Oh!” Liam took a sip of his beer. “Got your eye on anywhere in particular?” 

He sent Louis, who was pressed into his side, a quick side glance. “Thinking about ManU,” he replied nonchalantly. Louis looked at him, didn’t say anything. 

“So!” Niall shouted above the noise, eyeing the two of them sitting so close together and taking another big gulp of his cider. “Are you two together or summat?” 

They choked on their drinks simultaneously, Harry sputtering uselessly and Louis choking and coughing. Niall barked out a laugh. 

“Guess that’s answer enough,” the boy chuckled. 

“You don’t even know I’m gay!” Louis said defensively. 

Liam snorted into his glass. 

“Trust me,” he said in earnest. “We know.” 

Harry swallowed down his own laugh as well as a chug of beer. 

They carried on like that for the rest of the night; it was probably approaching midnight when the four of them, drunk and happy and humming along to some stupid song together, stumbled out of the pub. Harry thinks it might have been Niall who suggested the idea of going to some club down the road, but Louis, being an ounce more sober than the rest of them, refused, laying a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder and escorting their group back to the apartment building. 

Louis, who had always been the one who needed to be persuaded out of doing stupid things, was now mothering them all obsessively, bringing them each a bottle of water from the fridge and ushering Liam and Niall into their rooms, clucking worriedly at the way they were staggering into walls and tripping over their own feet, until he was sure the two of them were safely in bed. He turned to face Harry who was left sitting on the sofa, quietly wringing his hands together and gazing at the floor. 

“Y’alright, H?” Louis asked him, and Harry took a moment, running through all the memories in his head of the two of them laughing, the two of them running, the two of them fighting, the two of them kissing. He closed his eyes. 

“I... don’t know what any of this is,” he stammered. “I’m so confused by this, I...my mum doesn’t even know where I am, Louis, and sooner or later she’s going to start phoning me and what am I supposed to say? You lied to your mum, Louis, I’m not gonna lie to mine.” 

Louis’ eyes narrowed; Harry couldn’t see it, but he  _ knew _ . 

“What are you saying?” Louis said. “You think I  _ wanted _ this? I didn’t want any of this, H, I just wanted to spend one fucking summer with you doing exactly what I wanted. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it either, because I know you did, I know you didn’t want any of it to end, so stop acting like I’m the one who forced you to do stupid shit because I’m not.”

“Just…” Harry held up a hand, ran the fingers through his hair. “Stop. Please. You’re...you’re going to Manchester. End of story.”

Louis huffed bitterly. “Don’t kiss me and then pretend you don’t care.” 

Harry felt the couch sink as the other boy sat down next to him. The room was nearly dark, a single hallway light revealing their faces, their shadows against the hardwood floors. 

“You know I care,” Harry denied softly. “Just promise me you’ll go. If you can’t do it for yourself and you can’t do it for your mum, do it for me.”

Louis was unspeaking and unmoving. 

“And if you won’t, that’s your decision, but I’m certain that in four years, when you’re watching me in uni, making new friends, you’ll regret not being there.”

“One week,” Louis said suddenly, and Harry lifted his head to stare at him. 

“One week from now is move in day,” he sighed. “We spend a week here. One week. And then maybe I’ll go. Maybe.”

“Promise me,” Harry pressed. “Promise you’ll go. For me.” 

There was a moment where Harry didn’t know what was going to happen. 

“I promise,” Louis whispered. 

And that was that. 

  
  


~

  
  


Niall and Liam seemed to enjoy the last week of the summer by going out a lot. 

Two days into Harry and Louis’ stay at their London flat, Niall went out around 10pm and came back with a girl. Every time a noise originated from his room, the three boys turned the volume up on their footie game until the sound on the television reached an unbearable peak and Liam went up to the bedroom door and kicked it, hard. The girl didn’t leave that night. 

And so, Harry ignored the obvious tension that rested heavily over their own room as Louis stripped off his shirt, pulled on a fleece jumper with nothing underneath and slid underneath the covers. 

So...there was that. The fact that the only way they could sleep together was in the  _ same damn bed  _ and Liam and Niall, being broke college students, only had one spare blanket. And Harry didn’t want to sleep alone on the couch. There probably wouldn’t be a problem; they’d been sleeping over at each other’s houses since they were toddlers, but now they were teenagers, they’d  _ kissed  _ now, and this couldn’t be ignored, not in the slightest. At least, not by Harry. 

They were sharing a bed. They hadn’t kissed since the prior day. They had spent the evening listening to Niall’s bed thumping against the wall. And now Harry was agitated, and Louis’ jumper was dangling lowly from his collarbones. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Louis asked, turning on the laptop he’d borrowed from Niall that had both Netflix and HBO for free. 

“Sure.” Harry swallowed, getting into bed beside the other boy and folding his arms tightly across his chest. 

Louis picked  _ Grease  _ without asking, and they spent about half an hour watching until the two of them grew quite bored. Harry turned his head minutely, just so he could watch Louis’ face, the way his eyebrows pulled in during a dramatic part and the way his nose scrunched during one of the songs, how he was actively resisting singing along. 

“Louis,” Harry muttered around the sounds of  _ Summer Lovin’.  _ Louis turned down the volume slightly, humming in response. 

“We haven’t kissed since yesterday,” he lamented slowly, trying not to sound disappointed. He watched a smile grow on Louis’ face. 

“We haven’t, have we,” Louis replied. “I figured…” He turned onto his side, locked their eyes. “If you let me kiss you right now, can I start calling you my boyfriend?” 

Harry gaped in shock. 

“I…” he spluttered uselessly. “I’m not out,” he blurted stupidly. 

“I know,” said Louis knowingly, calm and soft and smiling and beautiful. “I’m just saying–of course, only if you want to–maybe if you’re ready...I could start telling people. Like. When they ask if I’m single, I can say...I have a boyfriend. A...gorgeous, adorable, boyfriend named Harry.”

The words seemed so surreal. They weren’t best friends anymore. They could be  _ boyfriends.  _ This had been Harry’s fantasy since he was twelve; a boyfriend, a handsome boyfriend who called him pet names and cooked him dinner and did romantic, sappy things.

That could be  _ them.  _ Harry wouldn’t have to wonder what he would to do when Louis was married with children and Harry was still searching for someone special. He’d found him. The special person had been right under his nose, and he’d been too in over his head to do anything about it, until now. 

“Yeah,” Harry beamed. “Yeah. I’ll be your boyfriend.” 

“Yeah,” Louis echoed, grinning. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll do that.”

Louis closed the laptop, placed it gently on the bedside table. 

Then Louis kissed him. 

And Harry kissed back. 

It was...intoxicating. Harry got this fucking magical feeling when he kissed Louis, when they were so close, that made his chest almost burst and his stomach flutter and his knees weak. And Louis just... _ owned  _ it, Louis just took charge and guided him and Harry felt as if he didn’t have to try. He wanted to, but he didn’t have to, because with Louis everything felt right. 

So. This kiss escalated, quicker than the others. Harry felt everything begin to dissolve, felt everything melt away. Their lips were mashing into one another and there were clacking teeth and sloppy inhales  between each turn of their heads and. Well. Harry felt like they weren’t close enough, Louis with his jumper and Harry with his shirt and the covers over the both of them. 

Harry, a surge of courage running through him, reached for the hem of Louis’ top. Tugged at it slightly. 

Louis obliged almost instantly, pulling away for a split second before they were back together once again. 

“Wait,” the boy breathed suddenly, voice rough and thick. “Wait. Wait. Are we. Like. Are we doing this? Are you okay with this? We don’t have to, I don’t wanna make you do anything, just please tell me, I. Don’t wanna hurt you or upset you or...anything.”

Harry smiled as Louis waited for his response expectantly, silently. 

“Yes,” he resounded firmly. “Yes,  _ fuck  _ yes I want this.”

“You’re sure?”

“ _ Yes,  _ Louis, can you please stop talking and kiss me now?”

He did, and layer after layer, Louis unpeeled Harry and Harry unpeeled Louis, first their clothes, and then their underwear, and then they unraveled each other, their skin, feeling every possible inch, and then, slowly, they were worn and worn until they’d touched down to the bone and Harry felt him everywhere. Inside and outside and  _ everywhere. _

And so, as the night sifted through the end of summer air and the city noises quieted beyond the walls of a tired brick apartment building, the two boys inside made love, and everything seemed to fit into place. 

 

~

  
  


They said their first ‘I love you’s’ just after a day later. 

4am. They were pulling an all nighter, marathoning scary movies and obscure thrillers and heckling every bad actor and abandoned plot line they detected. They sat pressed together that night,  _ really  _ close together; Harry’s leg draped over Louis’ waist, Harry’s head resting on Louis’ chest, Louis’ arm around Harry’s back, and their fingers loosely intertwined. 

“Perfect,” Harry heard Louis whisper during a quiet section of the movie, when the two main characters were conversing softly in a basement about what to do with a dead body. 

Harry hummed through his yawn. “Hmm?” 

“You’re perfect,” Louis repeated, brushing his lips over Harry’s forehead. The younger boy felt a burst of warmth bubble and ignite in his chest, pull his face into a brilliant smile. He buried his face in Louis’ shirt. 

“You know, the beginning of the summer?” Harry began, voice muffled by the other boy’s shirt. “I never would’ve thought we’d be here,  _ together _ , like, in a  _ relationship.  _ I...thought about it, you know? But like, I didn’t think. That. I dunno, that you’d...like me too.”

“Love,” Louis interrupted. 

Harry startled, withdrawing his face and looking up in sheer bewilderment at where Louis thoughtfully was gazing at him. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” Louis reaffirmed. “Love.” The movie paused, sound stopped, but all Harry could pay attention to was  _ lovelovelovelovelove.  _

“I love you, Harry Styles,” he declared. “I love you with my entire heart, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that. I love you so much and I never want to leave you but I’m gonna go to Manchester because you want me to and because I love you.” 

Harry felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, some strange foreign emotion overriding his senses and making his heart feel ready to burst. 

“And I love you,” Harry choked. “I love you,  _ god _ , I love you so much you have no idea. I loved you for so long; I spent so many years wishing I didn’t, wishing it would just go away so that you wouldn’t have to deal with me but I don’t even care, I loved you first, Louis, I  _ love  _ you, and it’s gonna hurt like hell to watch you go to uni but...you deserve it so much. And. Yeah. I love you.” 

They didn’t kiss then. They hugged. They tightly wrapped their arms round each other and squeezed, didn’t let go, didn’t move, not until the sun begin to creep awake and the daytime sounds begin to commence; car horns and voices and Liam’s alarm.

“I’m gonna love you forever,” Harry whispered against bare skin, and that was when he felt the summer come to a slow and careful conclusion. 


	8. the end.

Harry’s mum called him on Saturday morning, when they were two short days away from Louis moving into his uni dorm. 

He’d hesitated briefly before answering, only for a split second wondering what the hell he was going to say before he picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and spoke, with Louis watching him carefully from where he was lounging on the bed. 

“Hey, mum.” 

“Harry. Where are you? You haven’t been answering my calls. Are you safe?”

“Yeah, mum,” he sighed, tiredly rubbing a hand over his eyes. They’d spent all of Friday out and about, first at brunch, then sightseeing, then exploring Liam and Niall’s uni campus while they met with friends or professors or whomever, then an early dinner at a loud, greasy pub and they’d ended the night clubbing, creating a meticulous fake ID for Harry and staying out until it was well past midnight. 

If Harry’s mum only knew what he’d been doing. She’d skin him alive.

“I’m safe,” he added. “I’m with Lou.” 

“Where are you?” she repeated. Her voice sounded worn, weary; she hadn’t slept. Harry felt a wave of guilt course through him. 

“I...I’m in London. Staying with Louis and his friends. I’m  _ fine _ though, I promise.”

The other end went quiet, so only Harry could hear was faint breathing. Louis stared at him. 

“Mum?” he asked tentatively. 

“We’re all worried sick,” she told him quietly. “You need to come home. Both of you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I know. We are. Tomorrow. We’re driving home tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

“H,” she said. Was silent for a moment. “You need to come home. Now.” 

“Tomorrow,” he muttered painfully. “We’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.” 

“No, love,” she strained. “Jay’s in hospital. You need to come home now.” 

Harry felt the blood drain from his own face, watched Louis sit up straight and lunge for the phone in his hand. 

“Anne,” he started. “It’s Louis, I–” He cut off suddenly, his mouth open, stuck on the word, breath caught in his throat as all of him froze. His face paled, turning white. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. We’re coming now. We’re on our way.” 

He handed the phone back to Harry and started to furiously open drawers and stuff things into his backpack. He moved robotically, no emotion in any of his features. Not now. 

Harry took it upon himself to alert Liam and Niall. With a few words, they were frantically collecting their keys, pulling on mostly acceptable clothing, grabbing plastic bags and shoving in snacks for the road. 

“Move quickly,” Liam told him, kind eyes drawn together worriedly. “We’ll be in the car. Louis’ car.”

When he returned to the bedroom, Louis was zipping up his backpack, tossing Harry’s clothes into his duffel. The boy’s eyes were damp, but he swallowed the tears down, sniffled while racing around the room. 

“Lou,” Harry said firmly, trying to snap him out of whatever mental breakdown he was having. “Lou!” Louis paused for a split second, not meeting his eyes. “Slow down, love, yeah? Just...Liam and Niall are in the car. We’re gonna get there soon. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

“You can’t promise that,” he mumbled. “You can’t.”

“I can promise that a few hours won’t make a difference in how your mum is, okay? We’ll get there.”

In less than five minutes, they were on the road, a faint country song drawling through the speakers and leaving a permanent mark on Harry’s heart. 

  
  


~

  
  


It was around 2pm when they finally arrived at the hospital. 

Their backs were stiff from sitting, and Harry nearly fell over upon exiting the car, but Louis was already through the doorway before the three of them had even collected their things. Harry rushed to catch up, trusting Liam and Niall to take care of everything else; when he walked in, Louis was at the front desk, shaking almost violently, speaking in a wavering voice to the kind-looking secretary. 

“No, I’m her son,” he was saying when Harry walked up to his side, grasped his trembling hand gently. “428? Thank you.”

Harry nodded in acknowledgement at the woman, right as Niall and Liam came up beside him. “They’re with us,” he explained, and she nodded knowingly. 

Harry meaningfully ignored the directory on the side of the lift that declared the fourth floor to be the oncology ward. 

The four of them practically raced down the hallway; Louis pale as a ghost, Liam and Niall following blindly, obedient and calm albeit unsure of what was going on. Harry’s heart was racing when they approached to the room and saw the people who were sitting outside; Harry’s mum, the twins snuggled next to Gemma, asleep. 

“Mum,” Harry croaked, going right up and pulling her up into a suffocating embrace. “I’m so so sorry, I’ll never leave again, I’m  _ so  _ sorry.” 

“It’s alright, love,” she consoled. “It’s okay.” She peered over his shoulder at where Louis was standing, frozen, eyes focused on what he could see beyond the window of the door; his mother, asleep on the bed, needles in her arms, slowly beeping monitors. 

“Louis, darling,” Harry’s mum said, pulling the other boy into her arms. “It’s alright. She’s okay. You poor thing.” 

“Gem,” Harry choked out, eyes falling upon his sister, tired and smiling at him weakly from where she was sat with the kids in her arms. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, Haz,” she responded. “It’s okay. This is just...one big mess.”

“Can I speak to her?” he heard Louis saying behind him. “Where are Lottie and Fiz? What did the doctor say? Have the twins had lunch?” 

“Lou,” Harry’s mum comforted. “She needs rest. The girls are downstairs getting something to eat. The twins have had lunch. The doctor’s not been in yet.”

The boy buried his face in his hands. “I was so stupid, I can’t believe I left her like that. To look after them all by herself…” He trailed off, shoulders shaking, and Harry’s heart broke, chest hurt. Suddenly he wasn’t in the dreamworld he and Louis had created for themselves; the summer nights, the adventures, the road trips and the sappy love confessions. The kisses. Suddenly, everything was real, everything was messed up, and everything had somehow gone horribly wrong. 

  
  


~

  
  


When Jay awoke, Louis had been the first into see her. They’d spent around an hour talking until she fell asleep, and then Louis had reemerged, face blotchy from crying and tear tracks staining his cheeks. 

They’d stayed at the hospital late into the night. Anne invited both Niall and Liam to stay at their house until everything had been sorted out and they felt ready to drive back home; Harry felt his heart warm at the kindness they showed, at their insistence to stay and help out, whether it be with the girls or with the housekeeping or with the cooking. 

Harry and Louis were lucky to have them. 

At 7pm, the two of them plus Niall trudged down to the cafeteria in search of something, anything to eat. The food wasn’t great; a limited selection of sandwiches, some slices of pizza, a tea and coffee station. It didn’t really matter what they ended up with because everything tasted like cardboard; dry and bland. 

Gemma, Anne, and Liam had driven the girls home, promised to order pizza and soda and have a movie night. Harry doubted any of them would catch a wink of sleep, but the house would be full: the Tomlinsons and the Styles and Niall and Liam.

He hadn’t wanted summer to end like this. 

“You okay?” Harry asked, voice quavering. Louis didn’t take his eyes off the dry burger laying abandoned on his plate. 

“I’m okay,” he replied, and he looked small. 

“I’ll be okay,” he amended after a moment.

Harry’s phone buzzed, a text from Liam. 

‘ _ girls are watching disney movies and eating pizza :) _ ’ it read, followed by a pink, sparkly heart emoji. 

“The girls are eating dinner and watching movies,” Harry relayed, which seemed to brighten Louis’ spirits slightly; Harry took a moment and admired the boy’s selflessness. He never thought about himself throughout all of this, not once; he spent so much time worrying about everyone else he never gave a single thought to himself. Harry watched as he picked at the food in front of him, mind obviously somewhere far off. 

“You wanna go home tonight, Lou?” he asked, already knowing the answer despite feeling the need to inquire. 

“No,” Louis uttered. “You can go home if you want.” 

“I’m staying here,” Harry said, and that was that.

  
  


~

  
  


The night was spent with the two of them pressed up against each other on a hard bench outside the hospital room. 

Harry was certain that Louis wouldn’t want to be near him after the day they’d had, but he had made himself comfortable regardless, holding an arm out gingerly in invitation while reclining against the wall. Louis ended up curled up in his lap, head resting heavily on his thigh as his breathing turned even and he was lulled into a fitful, restless sleep.

Harry stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the night shift beginning. There were nurses walking around in their orthopaedic sneakers, ones that he remembered Louis’ mum wearing paired with her Tinker Bell scrubs from when the two of them would go to the hospital together after school. Doctors conversing lowly here and there. Harry closed his eyes against the fluorescent lights, resting his hand on Louis’ head and stroking his hair absentmindedly. 

He willed himself to fall asleep even though he knew it’d be near impossible; at least, with the beautiful boy resting his head in his lap, hair fanned around his face like a halo. He was beautiful and he was Harry’s and Harry loved him so much it physically hurt. 

He could wait a year. He would have to. One year and then they’d be together again, like normal, well, as normal as possible. 

Of course, Harry knew this had been planned disregarding the possibility of Louis’ mother being in hospital. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The summer was supposed to end with all of them, happy, together, not like this. 

_ Not after this _ , the voice in his head whispered to him abruptly. 

He didn’t sleep. 

  
  


~

  
  


The next day was a blur of sorts. 

Harry wasn’t quite sure how it had passed so quickly; one second it was 6am and Louis was stirring awake in his lap, the next it was the afternoon and they were still at the hospital, backs stiff and aching from sitting for so long and feet painfully weak from lack of use. They hadn’t moved in multiple hours, not since they had gone down for lunch, and they’d been told to stay out of Jay’s room; her immune system was compromised, they’d been told, and until they had a diagnosis nobody was allowed to see her unless they were wearing a full hazmat suit. Harry looked away when he saw the hopelessly desperate look painted on Louis’ face as people in bulky gear went in and out of the room.

Harry knew why Louis had become so detached from everything. He wanted to be totally oblivious, but he knew Louis had some idea what the diagnosis would eventually be. He’d practically grown up in the hospital, grown up around such things. Of course he knew. And from the way he was looking sickly pale, withdrawn and uncomfortable every time Harry tried to speak to him...well, it couldn’t have been anything good. That was for sure. 

The thought of going home never even crossed their minds. They’d stay here as long as they had to. Moving day didn’t matter; nothing mattered. And somehow, Harry felt that happiness came at a price, and this was how they were paying for their reckless and irresponsible summer. 

  
  


~

  
  


“Cancer.” 

Louis had just left the hospital room; didn’t stay for the aftermath of the diagnosis, didn’t look at Harry. Didn’t do anything really. Stood outside the door, staring into nothingness, waiting for something to happen. Harry rose, delicately placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and giving him one questioning look. 

That was when Louis’ face collapsed, when all his strength seemed to disappear and his knees buckled. He would’ve fallen to the floor if it weren’t for Harry grabbing him, supporting him.

And then, shoulders shaking in silent sobs, he’d said one word, one fucking word, and that laid down everything Harry needed to know. 

Harry ignored the looks of pity every passerby sent their way; ignored the way they were sitting on the floor, clutching each other as tightly as possibly, ignored the way Louis’ tears soaked through his shirt and made his skin warm for one second and then cold the next. 

“Oh, Lou,” was all he could manage to say, pressing his cheek into the boy’s hair. “I love you so much, I love you so much.” And all the while Louis cried.

  
  


~

  
  


The weather had turned dull; gloomy clouds gathering thick and heavy over the sky, humid air sticking to their skin, flattening their hair. 

Harry’s suit gathered puddles of sweat and rain. Louis’ suit smelled like fresh linen, dry cleaned and crisp. 

They were wearing black, and Harry expected to be crying at this point, but instead all he could feel was exhaustion and sorrow. 

“She was loved by all,” said some man who neither of them knew. “A wonderful woman and mother. There wasn’t a single moment when Jay wasn’t smiling or helping someone.” Louis scoffed, then, because this was some mindless obituary, and this wasn’t Jay, not at all. Harry knew what Louis wanted desperately to do, knew that he just wanted to yell out that Jay wasn’t some ethereal being, Jay was a  _ fucking badass _ , and she wasn’t perfect but she was an inspiration to everyone. 

Harry squeezed Louis’ hand tightly, squeezed his mum’s hand on his opposite side. In the front row were Louis’ sisters, on his mum’s side was Gemma. This was Jay’s family, and Harry loved them all. 

“She will forever be missed,” the man was saying, and then it was Louis’ turn to speak; something that had taken some convincing, as the boy wasn’t one for poetic speeches, but he’d written it, and now he was going to say it in front of everyone. 

Louis looked unbearably fragile and thin in his suit. It fit him fine, but his stature was just so small and weak Harry wanted to wrap his arms around him and never ever let him go. 

“Um,” he said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his suit pocket. “So.” He glanced down at the paper, then balled it up in his fist. Harry swallowed down his tears.

“My mum was a badass,” he said, and through his watery eyes, Harry smiled at him. Louis offered a soft gaze, not a smile, not even close, but something. “She was my hero. And, um, she wasn’t perfect, but to me she was everything. Five kids, all by herself. Never quit, not once. She went out fighting and for that I applaud you, mum, because I’ve never known anyone as strong as you were.” 

He dabbed at the corners of his eyes and Harry’s heart broke a little bit more to see him hurting. To see his Louis hurting. 

“The last thing she said to me was that she was fucking proud of me,” he continued, ignoring the handful of scandalized intakes of breath from the back of the church. “She told me that I had to be true to myself. So I’m gonna tell all of you right now, and I don’t care what you think.” Harry’s heart rate rose, because he knew. They’d talked about this. And the entire bloody town was at this church, so once it was out, it was out, and Harry would know that he’d made Jay proud too. 

“I’m in love with Harry Styles,” Louis announced, and an eruption of chatter rippled throughout the pews. Harry’s mum gripped his hand tighter. “He’s always been there for me, just like my mum. And so now, as one last favor to her, I’m gonna be honest with myself and tell you all that I’m really proud, and even though it hurts like hell, I’m gonna keep fighting. Because there are so many reasons to be proud of who I am.” 

Harry was crying now, looking at the framed picture of Jay as if she was really there, as if she was watching them come out to everyone they knew and probably didn’t know. And Harry knew, somewhere, she was cheering for them. 

“So yeah,” Louis finished. “There’s that. Mum, I love you and miss you and hope I made you proud.” 

Silence greeted Louis’ speech as he sat down next to Harry, grabbed his hand. Squeezed, hard. They were both crying but it didn’t matter, because everything would be alright. Even though everything felt like utter shit and nothing seemed to have a purpose and there was this huge, gaping hole in all of their hearts, everything would be alright. 

It always was. 

  
  


~

  
  


**_three weeks later_ **

 

Manchester University had been extremely understanding when the situation had been explained to them; they’d given Louis as long as he needed, and as it turned out, he’d only needed two weeks to sort out everything before he was ready; ready, Harry didn’t really understand, because it was so soon, but something had clicked inside the boy, and he was motivated, motivated to start working to give himself something more. 

And Harry would’ve loved it if he wasn’t so damn worried about him all the time. 

It was soon after Louis had officially moved in and was packing clothes into his dresser when Harry had brought it up. 

“Are you okay, Lou?” he asked tentatively, perched on the edge of the bed. A framed picture of the Tomlinsons was resting next to another picture of him and Harry together, Louis kissing the other boy on the cheek as they stood in front of the London Eye, taken by Liam when they’d been staying together. Before everything had gone wrong.

“I’m okay, love,” he replied tiredly. Louis always looked a bit tired now, always slouched like there was a literal weight pressing on his shoulders and it broke Harry’s heart. “You?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry insisted. “You sure you’re alright?” 

There was a minute of silence, and then Louis sat down next to Harry, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“My mum wrote me a letter,” he sighed. “Before…” He trailed off, shaking his head a little. 

“Yeah,” Harry whispered, intertwining their fingers. 

Louis slid a hand into his back pocket, withdrew a folded envelope. For a split second, Harry flashed back to the funeral, felt a lump in the back of his throat and gulped it down. The paper was placed in Harry’s free palm, and, with feather light fingers, he unfolded it, let his eyes drift over the words there.

 

_ My darling Louis,  _

_ I hope you’ve listened to my instructions and waited for the two week mark. I’m sure you have. Or maybe you haven’t. You’ve always been a bit impatient, just like me. _

_ I don’t need to tell you to look after your sisters. You’re already doing just fine. But I need you to look after Harry. He’s a good boy. You’re lucky to have him.  _

_ Enclosed is a check of 500 pounds. This should be enough to cover some school expenses. I know you’re not happy about university, but I hope you understand. I want for you what I never had. You have such potential, and I though I will always love you and be proud of you regardless of your career, I would hate to see you waste it.  _

_ Louis. Go to school. Wait for Harry there. You will be fine. I’m always watching you, love. Just know that. _

_ Love,  _

_ Mum  _

_ P.S. don’t get into too much trouble.  _

 

“Louis,” Harry choked. “This is why?”

“This,” Louis said quietly. “And you.”

A hot tear left a trail down Harry’s left cheek. “You’re wonderful. You’re so, so wonderful, and I will love you forever.”

_ Not after this _ , Harry thought, and now, he realized, he’d figured something out.  _ If only  _ wasn’t  _ if only  _ anymore.  _ If only  _ was real, and Harry was happy. He was heartbroken and painfully sad but he was also happy and somehow, he knew it would get better. 

“Listen,” Louis whispered. “Can you feel my heart?” Louis lifted their hands, pressed them against his chest. “That’s all for you.” 

His own heart thumped in his ears, perfectly in time with the other boy’s. 

“I feel it,” Harry whispered back. 


	9. epilogue

**_eleven months later: moving day_ **

 

“Who knew Harry Styles had so many goddamn clothes?”

There were only two suitcases. Harry had expected there to be a lot more, considering Louis had four on his moving day, but he made up for it with rolls of posters, the bags stuffed full of pictures and postcards, the stupid drawing Louis did for his 18th birthday of a dog with wings, flying close to the top of the London Eye, which he’d insisted on framing. (Louis. Louis had insisted on framing it, not Harry. Who’d pretended to hate it, but secretly loved it).

“They’re not all clothes,” Harry defended. “There are books in there. And shoes.”

“Sure,” Louis grunted, acting like he was hauling some kind of dead animal up the single flight of stairs leading to his dorm. “You’re roommate better be fucking hot, or I’m dropping out of uni and becoming a rubbish bin man. I hear they get paid well.”

“His name is Zayn,” Harry panted. “Maybe he’s goth. What if he’s goth? Will you make me switch rooms?”

“I love you, Harry dear, but I’m not okay with you sharing a room with a goth. No poetry readings in graveyards for you, darling.”

“What if he’s hot?” Harry pressed, and it was then that they turned the corner of his doorway and came face to face with his supposed roommate. Whatever Louis was going to say got caught in his throat and he burst into a fit of abrupt coughing.

Zayn the roommate looked like a model. That was the only way to describe him; swooshy, glossy black hair, perfectly flawless dark olive skin, outfitted in tight black jeans and plaid button-down, sleeves rolled up. He was in the middle of tacking up a _Metallica_ poster on his side of the room when they walked in, and he turned quickly, greeting them with a crooked grin and stepping away from the wall to extend a hand.

“Zayn Malik,” he introduced. “You must be ‘arry. Nice to meet you, mate.”

“Yeah,” Harry said breathlessly, shaking once. “Cheers. I’m Harry. You already knew that.”

Zayn Malik the Model turned to Louis. “Hi, man,” he drawled. “You two brothers or something?”

“Boyfriends,” Louis blurted out thoughtlessly. “I’m taken. I mean, he’s taken. I mean, what?”

Zayn laughed. “It’s okay, I’m taken too.”

Louis scratched his chin, and Harry rolled his eyes at the slightly disappointed look on his face. “Lucky girl,” he muttered, nudging Harry’s side and squeezing his hip just to remind him he was teasing.

“Boy,” Zayn clarified, and both of them jumped. “His name’s Liam.”

“Liam Payne?” they both squeaked at the same time, and Zayn’s face lit up.

“Yeah! You know him?”

There was a brief, awkward pause, and Harry chuckled uncomfortably. “Yeah. Well. We, erm, thought he was straight though.”

“Guess you learn something every day,” Zayn said, smirking a bit. He was very, very attractive. He returned to the poster on the wall, one loose corner still hanging down, a flap of tape gathering the dust floating around in the air.

“Hmm,” Louis said, and dropped everything, coughing again and punching himself in the chest. “H, help me make the bed, love?”

Neither of them said anything while doing so, both exchanging similar looks but remaining silent. Everything felt kind of surreal; Harry was here, finally, at ManU, and Louis was with him, and his roommate was fit, and his room was nice, and it was sunny out and he had a bit of extra money for their first planned date night as two uni students, and they didn’t have to worry about things at home because Anne had promised she’d look after all the girls.

Everything was perfect.

  


~

  


The restaurant they picked was nice; it wasn’t fancy, persay, but it was nice, and it gave them an opportunity to make themselves look slightly more presentable than the jean cutoffs and band tees they’d been wearing for the majority of the summer. The summer which had been full of prank wars and adventures, mostly between the two of them and Niall and Liam, who, as it turned out, were considerably talented at forming battle plans.

Now, they were both donning clean jeans and fresh shirts, quietly heckling the well dressed couples around them as they picked mindlessly at the meticulously arranged food on their plates. Yeah, their manners were usually better than this, but they were just so _happy_ they couldn’t _resist_ having some fun.

“You’re so stupid.” Harry shook his head fondly at Louis, who was laughing so hard that he about ready to burst a blood vessel.

“I’m serious,” he groaned, ignoring the dirty looks that other restaurant patrons were shooting them. “He’s gonna look awful when he’s old, don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

“You’re so mean!” Harry giggled into his glass of white wine, feeling awfully sophisticated. “He’s a lovely person.”

“And one day, he’s gonna look hideous,” snorted Louis, to which Harry slapped him lightly on the arm, and then they ended up holding hands, and then, in another quickly exchanged glance, Louis was asking for the check and they were practically racing out the restaurant, clutching each other tightly and cackling madly at stupid things.

They were kissing as they entered Harry’s room; it was near eleven at night, and the lights were off, and somehow the concept of having a roommate hadn’t quite struck Harry yet, so when the lights went on and revealed them clinging to each other and snogging senselessly, both of them as well as poor Zayn seemed a little bit bewildered.

“Oh,” Zayn said slowly. “Right. I’ll just...go chill outside. For a bit.”

He excused himself politely, and Harry was only mortified for about a second before Louis was on him again; kissing and touching and pulling him closer and tugging at his clothes.

“Jesus,” Harry murmured against the boy’s mouth as he fell backwards onto the bed. “You’re a lot, Lou.”

“I know,” replied the other boy matter-of-factly. “You told me that last time we did this.”

“Shut up.” Harry shoved him in the shoulder, hiding his smile in the crook of his elbow.

“You shut up,” Louis teased, and Harry groaned painstakingly before they were kissing again.

They spent the night curled up against each other.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Harry asked softly, rubbing infinity signs over Louis’ thigh.

“Only the prettiest,” Louis stated frankly.

Yes. Harry could get used to this.

  


~

  


They got their first tattoos together that January, two weeks before Harry’s 19th birthday.

“Remember what we said to each other,” Harry had said while the two of them were lying in bed, “the first time we met?”

“I was four, H,” Louis answered, brushing butterfly kisses to his hairline. “But yes. I know what we said.”

“I fell over,” Harry laughed. “Learning to walk. And I said oops…”

“And I said hi,” Louis completed for him. “Yeah. Why?”

“Let’s get tattoos,” he blurted out, and after some convincing, he managed to drag Louis to the nearest tattoo parlor, each getting their own tiny word permanently drawn into their skin.

Oops and hi.

  


~

  


Louis was twenty-four now, Harry twenty-two. Neither teenagers anymore.

Harry couldn’t think of anyone else he would rather spend the rest of his life with.

The day of his graduation, after a year studying abroad in China--China, of all places--Louis proposed to him onstage. He’d already consulted with the professors, with the president. Everyone cheered as Harry accepted his diploma; he caught sight of Louis, standing just a few feet away, knew exactly what was happening before it even happened, because suddenly, Louis was down on one knee, ring box open in his hand, eyes glistening with tears, and Harry said yes. Of course he did. Who else would he possibly marry?

It was still very surreal, looking back on the summers they had shared, stirring trouble and pulling stupid stunts. He probably would’ve never pictured it, that ten years later, they’d be married, _happy_ , a dog and a cat and a house and soon, a baby. But it had happened, it had come, and Harry was happy.

No more sleepless nights. No more _if only_. Just the two of them, real, tangible. Together.

Harry was happy, and he was home.  


**the end.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright! first of all, thank you for reading. you can find me on tumblr [here](http://dystopianharry.tumblr.com). this fic would not have been made possible without several lovely people and here they are:  
> [allison](foolsghld.tumblr.com), my wonderful beta, thank you thank you thank you!!! you are honestly a miracle and i don't know what i'd do without you!  
> [dany](http://shorthairlouiscares.tumblr.com), an amazing artist who created a beautiful thing for this story, i love u so so much and you are so talented <3  
> and some more people i need to thank who helped me when i got stuck and hit walls:  
> [becca](http://babyyyhoneyyy.tumblr.com), [caryn](http://tommostummie.tumblr.com), [amanda](http://hellaplantsjpg.tumblr.com), [meg](http://sweaterpawslou.tumblr.com), and [aiyana](http://lovelylarrie.tumblr.com) as well as many others!! you all are my angels :)  
> playlist can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/reveries-passions/playlist/4tteE3QgM36YVypzhOH7iW)


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